“A ‘turn’ is when you come into the arena,” Fox explained, before Cody could. “That is why you have all of those costumes. The women will fashion you more, as needed. Two sharpshooter costumes, one of the buckskin or cloth dresses when you are a Pawnee, and the dress for the Grand Quadrille should serve you well enough for now.”

Cody finished all but inhaling his breakfast, and stood up from the table. “We’ll start the run-through in a half hour or so,” he said. “Foller me, I’ll show you where we stable the hosses, your gal’ll be there.”

Well, she knew from Karl May’s books that Americans were brisk, but she’d had no notion what that meant until now! She left her breakfast dishes in the washtub and hurried after Cody. Sure enough, Lebkuchen was snugly stabled up with the other show horses in a spacious tent and seemed quite content with her lot in life. Following Cody’s example, she got Lebkuchen saddled and bridled, but led, rather than rode, her to the big show tent.

There was an entirely separate entrance, concealed from the public, as she had expected. Things were nothing like as regimented and organized as they had been for the show. Only about half the band was in the stands, and instead of being closed, the “stage curtains” at the entrance to the arena were pulled wide open and tied in place. Without an audience in it, the tent seemed bigger and emptier than she had remembered it being.

“Since you’re our other big attraction, you’ll start off the Grand Parade right after the color-guard,” Cody said, as the other show folk arrived and arranged themselves outside the tent for the run-through. On first glance it looked utterly chaotic, but as she watched, the chaos sorted itself out and no one seemed to get in anyone else’s way. “We’ll do the same plain target-shootin’ that ya did when you showed us what you could do, an’ end with fillin’ the bull’s-eye of the last target. That’ll be your first solo turn. Then the trick-shot turn’ll be clay targets, shootin’ the center out of a coin, an’ finish with the mirror shot. Anythin’ else you kin think of, talk ter Ned. Yer other shootin’ turn’ll be on yer mare. We’ll have knockdown targets set up at the band-end of the arena. You kin shoot a pistol, right?”

“I don’t have as much exper—” she began, but Cody waved that away breezily.

“’Tween yer Elementals an’ yer own good aim, shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll make three passes each. You ain’t a trick-rider, so we’ll settle fer goin’ at the gallop. Later on I’ll teach you some trick-ridin’ an’ that’ll make it more innerestin’.” She must have looked alarmed at that, because he laughed. “Don’ worry. It’s mostly a matter’f not fallin’ off.”

And with that not-very-comforting “encouragement,” the run-through began.