Read Online Nan Ryan by Written in the Stars - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Written in the Stars
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kitten with the inborn tenderness of a protective young mother toward her own precious offspring.
Someone had seen it all.
His dark, impassive face softening ever so slightly when the beautiful raven-haired woman hugged the furry white kitten to her breast, he watched unblinkingly from his barred cage across the dusty alley.
The fierce Redman of the Rockies.
Chapter 7
By sunset the fairgrounds’ newly constructed grandstands were filled to overflowing. Extra folding bleachers had been hastily added to stretch the seating capacity. It was as if not only the city of Denver but the entire state of Colorado had turned out en masse for the nighttime premiere performance of Colonel Buck Buchannan’s Wild West Show .
As the appointed hour approached, the heart of every performer beat a little faster. Opening-night jitters were nothing more than a building excitement, a tingling anticipation which caused the blood to surge swiftly through veins, pulses to quicken pleasantly. The troupe was experienced and totally confident. All the same the performers felt vitally alive and childishly eager to get out there before the huge, expectant crowd and do their stuff.
All was ready.
Run-throughs had gone smoothly. The lights had been tested and retested. The dusty arena watered down. Huge, colorfully painted backdrops stood just outside the show ring, arranged numerically, their numbers corresponding to the show segments in which they would be used.
So now, as the still summertime darkness settled over the Queen City of the Rockies, Colonel Buck Buchannan’s Cowboy Band serenaded the last of the straggling spectators into their seats, a late change had been made on the show’s agenda. One not listed on the printed programs. The eager crowds filling the fairgrounds were in store for an even more exciting evening than promised.
SHOWTIME .
The oval arena was totally dark. The crowd in the packed grandstands sat in darkness. The brief flare of matches, the scattered glow of cigarettes sprinkled orange pinpoints of light throughout the bleachers. It appeared to be a giant gathering of luminous orange fireflies. The hum of a thousand separate conversations competed with the band’s playing of martial and show tunes.
And then …
All at once the band went into a loud fanfare. At the same time bright calcium flares blazed to life, illuminating the empty arena as wild west banners slowly descended. All conversation stopped. Every head turned. Each pair of eyes focused on the lighted arena’s south entrance gate.
Loud cheers and whistles greeted him as that grand old gentleman of the Plains, Colonel Buck Buchannan, galloped into the arena astride a glorious white stallion with wild, glowing eyes. Horse and rider, caught and framed in the blue mirrored spotlight, were a sight to behold.
The Colonel was dressed all in snowy white gabardine. His shirt and trousers were heavily fringed and decorated with gleaming silver embroidery. The trousers were stuffed into handmade leather boots; the boots’ tops inlaid with silver. On his hands were fringed white gauntlets, and atop his white head a white Stetson was cocked at a jaunty angle.
His magnificent white steed, Captain, was equally well turned out with fancy trappings of white and silver. His long white mane and strips of wide silver ribbon had been meticulously plaited together into a dozen perfect, gleaming silver and white braids. Saddle and bridle were heavily embellished with silver.
The wide smile on Colonel Buck Buchannan’s face was brighter by far than the calcium flares. The Colonel reared Captain up on his hind legs and lifted his white Stetson in a sweeping salute to the audience. A crescendo of applause erupted as the mighty stallion turned around and around on his two hind legs, the man on his back seated militarily straight.
Flowers were tossed at the Colonel and Captain as they began a tour of the ring. One hand loosely holding the reins, the other proudly waving
Someone had seen it all.
His dark, impassive face softening ever so slightly when the beautiful raven-haired woman hugged the furry white kitten to her breast, he watched unblinkingly from his barred cage across the dusty alley.
The fierce Redman of the Rockies.
Chapter 7
By sunset the fairgrounds’ newly constructed grandstands were filled to overflowing. Extra folding bleachers had been hastily added to stretch the seating capacity. It was as if not only the city of Denver but the entire state of Colorado had turned out en masse for the nighttime premiere performance of Colonel Buck Buchannan’s Wild West Show .
As the appointed hour approached, the heart of every performer beat a little faster. Opening-night jitters were nothing more than a building excitement, a tingling anticipation which caused the blood to surge swiftly through veins, pulses to quicken pleasantly. The troupe was experienced and totally confident. All the same the performers felt vitally alive and childishly eager to get out there before the huge, expectant crowd and do their stuff.
All was ready.
Run-throughs had gone smoothly. The lights had been tested and retested. The dusty arena watered down. Huge, colorfully painted backdrops stood just outside the show ring, arranged numerically, their numbers corresponding to the show segments in which they would be used.
So now, as the still summertime darkness settled over the Queen City of the Rockies, Colonel Buck Buchannan’s Cowboy Band serenaded the last of the straggling spectators into their seats, a late change had been made on the show’s agenda. One not listed on the printed programs. The eager crowds filling the fairgrounds were in store for an even more exciting evening than promised.
SHOWTIME .
The oval arena was totally dark. The crowd in the packed grandstands sat in darkness. The brief flare of matches, the scattered glow of cigarettes sprinkled orange pinpoints of light throughout the bleachers. It appeared to be a giant gathering of luminous orange fireflies. The hum of a thousand separate conversations competed with the band’s playing of martial and show tunes.
And then …
All at once the band went into a loud fanfare. At the same time bright calcium flares blazed to life, illuminating the empty arena as wild west banners slowly descended. All conversation stopped. Every head turned. Each pair of eyes focused on the lighted arena’s south entrance gate.
Loud cheers and whistles greeted him as that grand old gentleman of the Plains, Colonel Buck Buchannan, galloped into the arena astride a glorious white stallion with wild, glowing eyes. Horse and rider, caught and framed in the blue mirrored spotlight, were a sight to behold.
The Colonel was dressed all in snowy white gabardine. His shirt and trousers were heavily fringed and decorated with gleaming silver embroidery. The trousers were stuffed into handmade leather boots; the boots’ tops inlaid with silver. On his hands were fringed white gauntlets, and atop his white head a white Stetson was cocked at a jaunty angle.
His magnificent white steed, Captain, was equally well turned out with fancy trappings of white and silver. His long white mane and strips of wide silver ribbon had been meticulously plaited together into a dozen perfect, gleaming silver and white braids. Saddle and bridle were heavily embellished with silver.
The wide smile on Colonel Buck Buchannan’s face was brighter by far than the calcium flares. The Colonel reared Captain up on his hind legs and lifted his white Stetson in a sweeping salute to the audience. A crescendo of applause erupted as the mighty stallion turned around and around on his two hind legs, the man on his back seated militarily straight.
Flowers were tossed at the Colonel and Captain as they began a tour of the ring. One hand loosely holding the reins, the other proudly waving
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