Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 18 (1/3) By Frank Beill 1886: Hull, Yorkshire

(1/3), (2/3), (3/3). Part 1 Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Part 2 Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3.

My sister and I were sitting on my bunk. A funny feeling came over me: it was almost like relief. My hero knew about me and about my circumstances but he'd not decided automatically that I'd have to go back to the orphanage. 'I have always wanted a brother. I do not want to lose you.' Laughing Waters didn't share what she considered to be my unfounded confidence. 'My father, my family do not want you to go. The little ones are crying.' 'Don't worry,' I said. She leant on my shoulder and I stroked her hair. The brother she baptised 'Lost Boy' didn't feel lost anymore. 'Buffalo Bill's a good man. 'He'll make the right decision.'

***

There was entertainment on the cargo deck during the afternoon. To be precise the audience sat on the cargo deck and the end of the promenade deck provided the stage, some six feet higher up. The cowboy band played more of its infectious toe-tapping music but the star attraction came as a complete surprise to me. Nate Salsbury was much more than an entrepreneur. To my amazement I discovered he was also an accomplished performer: comic songs, humorous recitations and displays of talents in face pulling, mime and mimicry I could never have imagined.

His stage persona couldn't have been further from the smartly suited, teetotal businessman we saw during the inquiry in Bill's saloon. A lifetime of experience on the vaudeville stage enabled him to see the potential of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. Quite what the Native Americans and the Mexicans in the company made of his antics I'm not sure, but they all laughed rip-roarously at his performance, though not necessarily at the points where they were supposed to.

Everyone was buoyed up by the entertainment, all that is except Laughing Waters. She held my hand tighter than ever before and wouldn't let go, not even when we were being served our evening meal. That night she climbed up onto my bunk, determined to stand guard over me. Anyone wishing to take me away would have to get past her. The next morning she was still perched on the edge of my bunk. There was no room to move about in it unlike my double bed in the orphanage. Although my sister was smaller and softer than my old bedmate, I felt stiff from the tight squeeze and she must have done so too. Instead of our usual routine of going straight to breakfast, we went up on deck to rid some of the stiffness from our limbs.

Yesterday afternoon's laughing faces were long gone. Everyone looked serious. Something was wrong. Was knowledge of my misdemeanour now public? But no one paid any heed to me. I nearly forgot my supposed lack of a tongue and was tempted to ask one of the concerned looking cowboys what was happening.

Fortunately, an overheard snatch of conversation between two other performers solved the puzzle and I was able to keep my vow of silence. 'Old Charlie's bad! Bill's with him,' the first cowboy said. 'What's wrong with the old boy?' 'Got trouble breathin'.' The cowboy shook his head, clearly fearing the worst. My feeling of euphoria evaporated and I gripped Laughing Waters' hand even more tightly than she was grasping mine.

If Buffalo Bill's horse were ill - the one that carried him for the best part of twenty years, the one he had ridden through his real adventures on the wild frontier - then the last thing he'd be considering would be my situation.

Continued... Next Page (2/3)

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