Coming Up Roses (7 page)

Rose glared at him—and gave it up. He was
right. “There’s no need to ask the colonel,” she muttered. “How do
you want to approach this assignment of yours?”

Chapter Four

H.L. May’s smile almost knocked her over
backwards. “We’re going to have to spend a lot of time
together.”

All of Rose’s suspicious instincts rose up in
alarm. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, as if he couldn’t conceive of
anyone ascribing less-than-chivalrous motives to his words. “I want
to do a series of interviews with you, but I don’t want them to be
stiff and stuffy. I want to chat with you in a relaxed
atmosphere.”

Fat chance of that ever happening, Rose
thought sourly. She’d relax around H.L. May the day the earth stood
still. “How do you propose to accomplish that?” At least she was
speaking properly. Rose was rather proud that her rattled innards
didn’t express themselves in poor grammar.

His speculative gaze made her nerve
endings perk up and quiver. She definitely wasn’t sure about this
man and his motives. Rose knew she was no femme fatale, but Annie
had often told her that men didn’t care how pretty a girl
was.
If you’re a woman, you’re
prey
, Annie had said, and Rose believed
her.

“
Say, Miss Gilhooley, have you been up
in the Ferris Wheel yet?”

Rose blinked at him. “The Ferris Wheel? Why,
no.” She’d been wanting to ride on the spectacular invention, but
she wasn’t about to wander around this enormous Exposition teeming
with all kinds of people by herself. She and Annie had been
intending to ride the Wheel one of these days, but so far Annie
hadn’t had the time.

“
How would you like to ride the Ferris
Wheel this evening?”

“
This evening?” Rose was so startled,
she spoke more loudly than she’d meant to. “But—but—but . .
.”

“
I give you my word of honor I only
want to show you the Wheel, Miss Gilhooley.”

The way he said it, as if he were talking to
a small child who needed to be humored, didn’t do anything to
settle Rose’s uncertainty. While it was absolutely true she had no
wish to be obliged to fend off improper advances, she also wouldn’t
mind knowing that H.L. May thought of her as a grown-up adult human
female toward whom he might conceivably want to make an improper
advance or two. For heaven’s sake, she wasn’t all that young!

She had a feeling she was missing some very
important point somewhere, but she had no notion what it could be.
“Um, I’m not sure I ought to do so tonight, Mr. May. I have to get
plenty of rest, you know, and—”

“
Applesauce!”

Rose objected to him interrupting her in that
peremptory way. She was, after all, something of a star. A smallish
star, granted, and one without a whole lot of twinkle, but she
deserved at least as much respect as anyone else in the world.

That being the case, she propped her fists on
her hips and frowned at him. “You may think my act is easy for me,
given my level of expertise, but it’s not. For your information, I
need sufficient sleep and so forth in order to make sure I don’t
kill myself out there. And my concerns are not applesauce!”

“
Of course they’re not.”

He was humoring her again, using that
mollifying, condescending tone Rose hated. She turned around and
snapped, “Some other time.”

She’d stomped clean out of the stables before
she realized H.L. May hadn’t gone anywhere. Nor had he been
intimidated into remaining in the stables. She ought to have known
better than to think anything she could say or do would sway this
nosy, pushy, aggravating reporter. He was right there by her side,
grinning like an imp. She sighed heavily.

H.L. May gazed down at Rose Gilhooley and
thought that she, while annoying as hell, was absolutely
adorable.

“
Come on, Miss Gilhooley.” He used his
most persuasive tone on her. It had always worked on women before.
He couldn’t imagine artless little Miss Rose Gilhooley being less
susceptible to his many charms than any other female in the
world.

“
I have other things to do.” She didn’t
slow down, but continued to march along as if she were trying to
kill roaches as she walked.

Whoa, she sounded ferocious. H.L. hadn’t
reckoned on her being twice as stubborn as most women, susceptible
or not. Although . . . he guessed she’d worked hard to get where
she was. That must take a lot of grit and determination.
Stubbornness was probably only an outgrowth of those qualities.

But that was the whole point, he reminded
himself instantly. He wanted to find out what made her tick. What
had motivated this tiny woman to become the best in the world at
what she did, especially since what she did required an astonishing
level of stamina and skill? Damn it, she wasn’t going to get away
with this peremptory dismissal.

“
Wait a minute, Miss Gilhooley.” He put
a couple of fingers on her arm, and she jumped. Lord, she was
touchy. “Sorry.”

She wheeled around and scowled again. “I
don’t like people I don’t know touching me, Mr. May.”

So . . . did she like people she knew
touching her? H.L. would have liked to ask, but didn’t dare. She
might slap his face, although she’d probably have to stand on her
tippy-toes to do it. Jeeze, she was cute. “I beg your pardon.” He
tried to sound humble. “But you did tell me I didn’t need to ask
Buffalo Bill’s permission to interview you. And I’m sure he’d
approve of what I have in mind as publicity for you and, by
extension, the Wild West.”

H.L. found the lightning-quick change in her
demeanor both intriguing and significant. All he had to do was
mention Cody’s name, and Miss Rose Gilhooley went tame. It was akin
to what that Russian fellow, Pavlov, had demonstrated with his
dogs. Only Miss Gilhooley didn’t start salivating when the
colonel’s name was mentioned; she started being agreeable. H.L.
decided to remember this for future dealings with her.

“
Are you trying to blackmail me, Mr.
May? It won’t work. I’ll do pretty much anything for Colonel Cody,
because I think he’s one of the great men of our day, and
he’s—well, he’s been wonderful to me. But I won’t compromise myself
for him or anybody else.”

H.L. was honestly shocked, and that surprised
him. Before he met Rose Gilhooley, he’d considered himself fairly
unflappable. “Compromise you! What the hell do you think I’m
planning to do to you on that Wheel, anyway? Dammit, Miss
Gilhooley, all I want to do is write about you!” He was pleased
when she blushed brick red.

“
I didn’t mean that.”

“
No?” Noticing that his reaction had
slightly cowed her, H.L. resolved to take advantage of it. He
adopted his best wounded expression.

“
That’s what it sounded like to
me.”

“
Well, you heard wrong, then.” Now she
sounded exasperated. “But you don’t understand! As a performer, I
have to be twice as careful with my reputation as anybody else.
Annie has told me so often.”

“
Annie?” All of his reporterly
instincts jolted to attention. “You mean Annie Oakley?”

“
Yes.”

“
You were with her this afternoon, too.
Do the two of you hang out together a lot?”

“
Yes. She’s my very best
friend.”

Hmmm. The little bareback queen sounded a
trifle defensive. This was awfully interesting stuff. H.L. wasn’t
about to let it slip away. “I see. Well, for your information, even
if I had something dastardly in mind for you, I wouldn’t be able to
accomplish it on the Ferris Wheel. The thing’s too public, for one
thing, and there would be fifty-eight other people in the carriage
with us. And for another thing, I’m not that sort of man.”

She started walking again, but she gave him a
look he’d have resented if he didn’t find it so darling. “Is that
so?”

“
Yes.” He didn’t have to trot to keep
up with her, although she walked mighty fast for such a shorty.
“Anyhow, I know you’ll enjoy it. You haven’t lived until you’ve
seen Chicago and the Exposition at night, all lit up, from the top
of the Ferris Wheel.”

That got her attention, by God. Her eyes were
huge when she glanced up at him. “Really? I’ve been wanting to go,
but there’s so little time.”

“
You’ve got time right now,” he pointed
out.

Thunderous applause reached them from the
arena. Rose paused to watch. When H.L. did likewise, he saw what
looked like a million mounted men, some in soldiers’ uniforms and
some in breach clouts and feathered headbands, galloping out of the
arena. Rose waved to several of them.

Colonel Cody and an Indian gentleman spotted
Rose and H.L. and trotted over. Rose smiled with unfeigned
admiration and what looked to H.L. like adoration at Buffalo
Bill.

“
Sounds like the crowd loved you as
usual, Colonel.”

Buffalo Bill saluted H.L. and leaned over to
give Rose a kiss on the cheek. “That they did, Rosie. I see you’re
giving an interview. Good work!” He reined his white horse around
and trotted back toward the arena. “Got to take another bow and
introduce Missie. Have fun, Rosie! Show that reporter fellow a good
time. It’ll be good for the Wild West!”

Rose frowned.

H.L. grinned.

The Indian did neither. Rather, he
stared at H.L. in a noncommittal way for so long that it actually
made H.L. uneasy, which was a feat few men had accomplished.
Slightly peeved, H.L. said, “Hello, there. My name’s H.L. May. I
write for the
Globe
. He
reached up to shake the Indian’s hand, but the gesture was ignored.
H.L. chalked it up to cultural differences.

The Indian transferred his unreadable gaze to
Rose. “This man bothering you, Wind Dancer?”

The fellow’s voice was deep, sort of
guttural, and it made H.L. think of prairie grasses blowing in the
wind, which was weird, since he’d never seen prairie grasses
blowing in the wind. Uneasily, he eyed the rifle gripped in the
man’s hand and the tomahawk stuck in his waistband. “I’m not
bothering her.”

Rose opened her mouth, and H.L. held his
breath. He didn’t think this guy would scalp him, but he wasn’t
sure. After keeping him in suspense for several seconds, Rose
finally said, “No. I guess he’s not really bothering me. Little
Elk, this man is a reporter who wants to write an article about
me.”

“
More than one article,” H.L. hastened
to correct her. “She’s great, and she deserves lots of publicity.”
He grinned at the Indian, who didn’t grin back, the same way he
hadn’t shaken his hand. H.L. sighed.

“
She’s the best rider in the world,”
Little Elk said matter-of-factly.

Rose gave him a pretty smile. “Little Elk
taught me everything I know how to do on horseback. He has to say
that.”

At long last, the Indian grinned. “Naw.
You’re great.” He made a brief gesture to H.L. “What you going to
do with her?”

H.L. cleared his throat. Shoot, this was
worse than asking a proper lady’s father if he could come
a’courting. “I was only going to take her on the Ferris Wheel. The
lights of the fair and the city are wonderful to see at night from
on top of the wheel.”

Suddenly, Rose gave a start and brightened
visibly. “Say, I have a splendid idea! Why doesn’t Little Elk come
with us?”

Damn. H.L. squinted first at Rose, and then
at the Indian, who looked smug. H.L. didn’t know Indians could do
that. He thought they were supposed to be stoical and
impassive.

What the hell. He shrugged. “Sure. Come on
along.”

At least his acquiescence in the matter
prompted Rose to quit arguing with him. That was a good thing.

# # #

Little Elk chomped popcorn contentedly. So
did Rose. This really was fun. She’d never been to a fair. In
England, she’d been introduced to Queen Victoria herself, not to
mention the Prince of Wales—he was so portly that she and Annie had
privately referred to him as the Prince of Whales—and his wife, and
a whole bunch of titled folks. She’d also met the Kaiser and
several more royal people in Europe, as well as an African chief, a
Polynesian something-or-other, and a Chinese Mandarin.

But she’d been working then. Her life hadn’t
afforded her many opportunities to relax and behave like other
young women who, she presumed, visited entertainments whenever they
were moved to do so.

But at this moment, she was visiting the most
spectacular Exhibition the world had ever seen, in the company of
one of her best friends and an alarmingly exciting man. She glanced
up at H.L. May and was thrilled all over again.

Her reaction to him both troubled and puzzled
her. She didn’t really like him. He was too cheeky and aggressive
for her taste. He also made her feel like a backwoods yokel.
Granted, that wasn’t a difficult feat to accomplish, but all Rose
had to do was look at H.L. May, as she was doing now, to feel
insignificant, unlettered, and worthless.

At the moment he was surveying the milling
throng and the astonishing display of electrical lighting all
around them as if he were a monarch eyeing his kingdom. He didn’t
find all this tumult and inventiveness intimidating. He acted as if
he’d created it himself, like God.

Oh, dear. She was becoming blasphemous, and
she’d only been in H.L. May’s company for a little more than thirty
minutes. This didn’t seem like a good omen to Rose.

To distract herself, she said, “It is very
kind of you, Mr. May, to entertain Little Elk and me this way.”
There. Rose didn’t truly think the man was kind at all. She figured
he’d only taken Little Elk along with them because Rose wouldn’t
have gone otherwise.