Mary Shura: Gabrielle

Flossie grinned at her. "My goodness, child. I never knew a showboat person who liked going ashore as much as you do."

Flossie was right. Gabrielle did love going ashore. She especially loved going there in the early morning when the shrubbery along the bank gleamed with dew, and birds called from every bush. But this time it wasn’t just being on land that made Gabrielle’s heart leap. She would have to get money from her father. This would give her a perfect chance to talk to him about her planned act. She might even be able to start practicing on it this very day!

"I’ll get some money from Father," she said, trying to hide her delight at the thought of an hour off the boat.

Gabrielle found her father alone in the pilot house, looking upstream through his binoculars. The map of the showboat’s route lay open before him. As always, she leaned to stare at it. She loved looking at the rivers they had traveled, seeing the names printed in her father’s clear hand. Wonderful names: the Ohio, the Kanawha, the Monongahela. When they reached Pittsburgh they came down the Ohio again, traveling a ways up the Kentucky, the Wabash, the Tennessee, and finally the Green River before reaching the Mississippi.

He lowered his glasses and smiled broadly at her before catching her shoulders in a hug. "You look at a map like a river pilot," he teased her. "Next thing I know you’ll be wanting a showboat of your own." Then he remembered what she had said about the act. "You got me pretty curious down there on deck. What’s hatching in that head of yours now?"

Gabrielle took a deep breath. "You have to promise me not to make up your mind too fast," she told him. "And remember when you look at this picture that I promise not to do anything dangerous. I just want to try something new in a way I have all figured out."

He was frowning before she even had the handbill out of her pocket. "You bet you aren’t going to do anything dangerous," he said, his tone gentle. "You’re all I’ve got, Princess. Out with it. What have you got there?"

His eyes widened as he studied the drawing of the young girl high above the crowd in a packed auditorium.

"Let me tell you how I figured it out," she said swiftly, knowing it was important to convince him before he said no and had to stick to it.

"Gabrielle Prentice," he broke in, "you could break every bone in your body."

"Listen, Father," she insisted. "It’s nothing brand new. All my life I’ve heard about the Polish acrobat Madame Olinza. She did it on Spaulding and Rogers' Floating Circus Palace way back before the showboats all quit running because of the War. And I’ve figured out how to teach myself. I can start practicing on a broomstick stuck in the forks of a couple of trees. I’d begin just a few inches above soft ground and gradually work up. I wouldn’t even try it above any hard surface like the wooden stage until I knew I was absolutely safe and you had seen me do it perfectly."

"Every bone," he repeated stubbornly.

"But I’m light," she reminded him. "I weigh hardly anything. And you know how good my balance is."

"But look at that woman," he said. "Up there in the air with those trousers on! It looks indecent, that’s what. I don’t know if you realize how hard it has been for me to build up the reputation I have. I give family shows where a man feels safe to bring his wife or sweetheart. And I never plan to do otherwise. Those pants of hers are downright vulgar. And don’t start in on me about those bloomer girls. No daughter of mine—"

"Father," she wailed, "these are not the old days anymore. It’s 1880. But, anyway, Flossie said you’d make a fuss about those pants, so we figured out how to make enough, stiff skirts that nobody would even see my pantaloons from below. And you could bill me as Mademoiselle Gabrielle. It’s not as fancy-sounding as a countess, but it looks good on paper."

"Tightrope walker." He frowned and fell silent for a long time. "Well, I will admit those circus-type shows bring in big crowds along the river. But Gabrielle, people work at learning that somewhere off in Europe. And just one fall on that wooden stage…" His voice trailed off.

"I promise not to take any chances. Can’t I just try? Not on the stage, but over soft ground. Maybe I won’t even like it. But I just have to try!"

He studied her, his dark eyes thoughtful. Then he smiled and reached for her. "If you aren’t the spit of your mother, Princess. She could never in her life settle for what she could already do. When we met she was a singer. Before I fairly looked around she was out-dancing everyone on the rivers. Then she took to writing those fine songs herself. No telling what she would be doing by now if the yellow fever hadn’t taken her."

"Tightrope walking?" Gabrielle suggested swiftly.

He laughed softly, then shook his head. "I’d give a pretty penny if you were as easy to boss around as the rest of my cast. All right, give it a try. But remember, you’re not doing it even one time on board this showboat until I know it’s as safe for you as sitting in church."

She wanted to jump for joy, but held herself tightly. "Thank you so much, Father. I promise you won’t be sorry." She paused and laughed. "Maybe I’d make a good gambler, too. I know enough to quit when I’m winning. While you’re being agreeable, can I have a dollar?"

His face darkened at the word gambler, then he saw her grin and realized he was being teased. "Okay, Miss Mischief, what’s this about?"

She laughed. "Flossie wants me to find a farmer who will sell us some breakfast meat while we’re tied up here."

"Maybe you could wait a bit until the morning light is a little fuller."

"She doesn’t really have enough to cook for breakfast," she told him.

He glanced at the Missouri woods behind the rude dock. They were still in deep shadow with the dawn barely breaking. "Maybe that young DuBois ought to go along with you."

" No ," she said with more force than she intended.

His eyes were quick on her face. "Trouble between you young folks?"

She shook her head. "Not trouble. It’s just that I don’t need anybody."

He pulled a dollar out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Well, I need you, Princess, and don’t ever forget it. And carry your knife with you. You never know what kind of crazy people you are going to run into on land."

GABRIELLE went back for her woolen shawl against the cool morning air. The gangplank of the showboat was suspended a couple of feet above the sticky Missouri clay of the river bank. Once up north by Red Wing, Minnesota, the gangplank had been left down because some of the crew weren’t back on board by bedtime. A young bear had wandered onto the boat in the middle of the night and scared everybody half to death banging around in the galley looking for food before they’d been able to run it off. Since then, Gabrielle’s father ordered the gangplank hoisted off the ground a little at night, even if some of the crew had gone on land after the show was over.

She leaped down, landing with a soft thud. The yellowish mud of the bank bore the footprints of animals who had come for water.

She recognized the handprints of raccoons and sharp, triangular hoofprints of wild pigs. The woods were still awfully dark. The willow trees that blazed a clear gold in the spring light now had leaves as dark as the oaks and elms. The underbrush was thick and damp against her stockings. A deep-throated frog croaked before leaping into the edge of the river with a loud splash. When a bird she couldn’t see screamed suddenly above her, she felt for the bowie knife at her waist, wishing her heart wouldn’t thump like that at every noise.

Several rough paths led off from the dock area into the trees. She chose the one to the left because it looked more commonly traveled with fewer overhanging shrubs.