Prologue

 

Deadwood, Kansas, March, 1887

 

William F., “Buffalo Bill”, Cody stared at Rose Ellen Gilhooley as if he’d never seen anything even remotely as wonderful as she in his life. Rose hoped she wasn’t misinterpreting his interest because she really needed him to like her.

“Whoo-eee!” the former-scout-become-entertainer hollered when Rose performed one of the more lethal tricks her Sioux pal, Little Elk, had taught her several years earlier. Cody even waved his hat in his excitement. “Little gal, you are really something!”

After she’d successfully maneuvered her body underneath her horse’s belly and had emerged safely on the other side—without benefit of a saddle or reins—Rose steadied herself, sucked in a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and leaped, landing with her bare feet on Gingerbread’s back. She balanced perfectly without, she hoped, looking as if she’d had to struggle to do so, and threw her arms up in the air in a gesture of triumph. Her brother Freddie had told her she looked like an angel ascending when she did that. Freddie used a lot of high-flown language, since he read a lot. Rose’s education wasn’t as grand as Freddie’s, and all she really hoped for today was that she looked like somebody Buffalo Bill Cody could use in the Wild West.

She knew her mother was nervous. Rose could see her from the corner of her eye: gaunt, thin, weathered, looking much older than her forty-three years, thanks to poverty and grinding hardship. But Rose’s mother, for all the discomforts of her life, loved her children beyond anything. Rose’s one wish, the reason she was performing her heart out for Cody today, was that she could earn some money by doing so, thereby helping her family and easing the burdens of her mother’s life.

Sliding down until she rode the big bay gelding astride, Rose kneed him, giving the signal to end the show with a flourish. Obeying her command, Gingerbread raced twice around the meadow and then stopped abruptly in front of Cody, rearing and pawing the air, as Rose had seen wild stallions do on the plains.

Buffalo Bill applauded extravagantly when Gingerbread took a classy bow, as Rose had also taught him to do. She executed a grand bow from horseback herself, sweeping her battered hat from her head. Of course, if she got the job, she’d no longer have to use battered hats.

“By golly, gal, you are really something! I thought your brother was exaggerating when he begged me to come out here and see you, but he wasn’t. By God, he wasn’t!”

He probably was, actually. Freddie was always praising her to the skies. This time, his zealotry might have paid off. Rose slid from Gingerbread’s back and clicked for the horse to follow her up to Cody, who stood at the door of the three-room sod hut in which the Gilhooley family had lived since they moved to the territory. The move had taken place years before Rose’s birth.

Because she’d learned early that a poor person had to use the gifts God gave her and not to be behindhand in expressing her needs, Rose didn’t shy away from asking the famous man the question that was uppermost in her mind. “Do you think you can use me in the Wild West, Mr. Cody?”

She’d given him a dazzling exhibition of her shooting skills, too, but she knew he already had a couple of female sharpshooters. The most famous of them, Annie Oakley, was, according to Freddie, better even than Rose at shooting. Therefore, Rose had spent most of today’s presentation on riding, at which even she acknowledged her superiority.

Nobody could beat Rose when it came to trick riding. Not even Little Elk any longer. Little Elk had told her so himself.

“By golly, I’ve never thought about hiring us a bareback rider, little gal, but I surely do think it’s about time.”

Her heart thrilled at his words. She’d all but worshiped this man for years. “Thank you so much, Mr. Cody.”

Cody stuck out a big hand for Rose to take. She wasn’t used to shaking hands with men, but she didn’t shrink from that, either. She took Cody’s hand, which was so large it swallowed hers, and shook it heartily.

“Call me Colonel, little gal. Everybody does.”

“Colonel Cody.” Rose would call him anything he asked, as long as he’d hire her.

“Sergeant Gilhooley told me that you—”

“Who?”

Buffalo Bill laughed. Rose wished she hadn’t interrupted him, but she wanted to know who Sergeant Gilhooley was. Nobody in her family had joined the army that she knew about.

“Your brother Frederick, little gal. I like to assign ranks to my friends, don’t you know.”

“Oh.” No, she hadn’t known, but that was all right with her, too. “I see.”

“So, Sergeant Gilhooley told me that you’re mighty eager to get started in your new career as a bareback rider with the Wild West. Is that so?”

“Yes, sir!”

He winked at her. “In that case, when can you pack? I’ve got to be in New York City next week, and we have to get the show together. We’re on our way to Europe.”

Europe! Good Lord. Rose shot a startled glance at her mother, whose face held a poignant combination of elation and sadness. Rose knew her ma would hate to see her go, no matter how much she’d be able to use the money Rose would be sending home. She stammered, “N-next week? New York? Europe?”

The world-famous buffalo hunter and scout nodded, still grinning up a storm. “You and I’ll have to catch the train from Deadwood tomorrow.” Cody gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s quick, and it’ll be a big change for you.” He turned to Mrs. Gilhooley. “And for you, ma’am. I know you’ll miss your daughter something awful, but she’s the best little rider I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen plenty, believe me. We can use her.” He allowed his glance to slide over the pathetic Gilhooley family farm. “And I suspect you can, too.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Gilhooley said softly. It was the first word she’d spoken since before Rose had started demonstrating her riding skills.

“Tomorrow.” Rose swallowed hard. Then she straightened and grinned at the man who looked as if he was going to be the salvation of her family. “Tomorrow it is, Colonel.” She snapped a smart salute, and Cody chuckled again.

She left with him on the train from Deadwood at noon the next day. There was no parting fanfare except from her family and the few of their friends and neighbors who’d heard the news in time to witness the departure of her train. Cody had made arrangements for Gingerbread to travel with them. Rose tried hard not to cry as she waved good-bye to her mother, brother, and sisters. Her mother didn’t even make an effort not to cry.

Thus it was that Rose Ellen Gilhooley began her career with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West. She was sixteen years old.