by Sharon Ihle
Shaken, Rayna stepped back from Gant and went to the corner to view the show.
He followed, instantly reminded of the pact they’d made, of how frightened Rayna was of this thing called love. Gant stood behind her, looking out into the arena, and gave her something else to think about.
“Gantini must sound great to J.R.” Gant said. “When a man names all of his sons Luther Gantry, Jr., it’s tough to come up with creative ways of referring to them. Since Junior was already taken, our father just used the initials for junior on J.R, but he doesn’t like it much. It’s like having no name at all.”
Rayna opened her mouth to make a comment about Gant’s father, something along the lines of his enormous ego, but then J.R. stepped into the cage with Zoltaire. The conversation came to an abrupt halt as the younger Gantry began his new act.
Spinning around with a dramatic flare, J.R. shed his cape, revealing his new costume. Instead of his threadbare Levis, a pair of tight brown trousers hugged his broad hips. In place of his usual work shirt, he wore only a black satin bolero that bared his arms and shoulders along with a wide expanse of his slick bronzed chest. The kid looked like he’d just stepped out of a Roman coliseum, right down to the leather belt he wore that featured a little cup filled with fresh meat for Zoltaire. As he entered the cage with the lion, J.R. cracked his buggy whip several times, and then got down to work.
Gant could hardly believe that this was the brother he’d practically raised for the first sixteen years of his life. J.R. was in his glory, completely in his element as he directed the snarling beast to do his bidding. No fear, but excitement and bravado shone in his eyes, a luminous kind of expression that could easily be read by every member of the audience.
“I’ll be damned,” Gant said under his breath.
Rayna turned sideways, noting the surprise and admiration in Gant’s expression. “He’s pretty good, much better than the usual beginner. Has he always been like this with animals?”
Gant shrugged. “Not that I ever noticed, but then we never had much reason to go chasing after cougars. Maybe the circus really is the place for J.R.”
“You had doubts?”
“That, I did.”
And still had a few, Gant realized as he watched J.R. prepare his favorite trick. Starting from two feet off of the arena floor, the kid hooked a chair to the bars of the cage and then ordered the lion to leap up on it. That accomplished, he took another chair and hung it near the first, another two feet higher. He continued this way, moving the two chairs and forcing Zoltaire to jump higher until the lion sat some eight feet above his trainer. With the lower chair tossed aside, the wild beast was stranded, as much under J.R.’s control as he could be. The lion took several swings at the riding crop J.R. cracked under his nose, and then roared when his trainer hollered nonsensical phrases, barking words that had no meaning.
Surprised by the flare for melodrama that his brother possessed, Gant said, “It’s just like he’s born to the circus. How did J.R. learn all of those foreign words so fast?”
Rayna laughed. “He makes them up as he goes. Zoltaire responds more to tone than anything else. I thought you were circus folks, Gant. How come you didn’t know that?”
“Easy,” he said with a laugh. “The circus isn’t exactly what sold me on the idea of joining up with the Baileys. I wanted to learn about running a business, a good honest business, and I knew that if nothing else, I’d learn that much from them. I’m just along for the ride.”
“Does that mean you’re not planning to stay on?”
It was a simple enough question, one she’d have asked of anyone, but as Rayna watched Gant forming his reply, she became painfully aware of how important his answer might be. And of how much she wanted him to stay.
Hedging, looking as if he wasn’t quite sure of his decision, Gant said, “I’m just here for the first full circuit, up river as far as we go, and then on down to New Orleans. From there, I’ll be heading west. California, I think.”
Rayna struggled with her disappointment. “I hope you don’t expect me to come visit you in California. Maria goes into a swoon over the idea of stepping foot west of the Mississippi. She’s scared to death of being captured by Indians.”
Gant stiffened. “She doesn’t seem to mind working for one.”
Not only had Rayna temporarily forgotten about Gant’s Apache blood, she hadn’t even considered that he might be touchy about it. Hoping to smooth things over, she said, “I wasn’t talking about you when I said that, and you know it. As far as I know, Maria doesn’t even suspect that you’re part Indian.”
Still rigid in his manner, Gant suggested, “Maybe it’s time that you told her.”
That wouldn’t happen, not while things with her mother seemed to be going well. Even Rayna’s worries about black magic had vanished. She had watched Maria carefully during mealtimes. During her time in the Pierre jail, Rayna had discovered that fasting for a prescribed number of days was absolutely necessary for one of Maria’s dark spells to work. Her mother had been taking her normal portion of food of late, so there was nothing to worry about on that count.
Cheered by the thought, Rayna linked her arm through Gant’s and said, “California, huh? Tell me all about it.”
*
For the next five days the circus stayed over in Memphis. This gave the troupe plenty of opportunity to gauge the reactions of the audience toward their various acts, old as well as new. Mollie kept the play East Lynn as a part of the show because it proved to be such a favorite of the crowd. Many opportunities throughout the skit gave the audience a chance to take their frustrations out on the villain. The crowds lustily hissed each time Marco appeared as the dastardly fellow, a role he played with an amazing aplomb, and Mollie’s portrayal of the damsel in distress always left them smiling in the end.
The Cleopatra act turned out to be a real crowd-pleaser as well, with the twins’ natural ballet skills enhancing the drama of the death scene. They spun gracefully above their queen during the grand finale as Rayna slowly spiraled down the rope to collapse in a delicate heap, the victim of a rubber asp. The applause was always thunderous, even though tears stained the cheeks of several female audience members. The clowns appeared shortly after the death scene, and soon the crowd was laughing again. Feeling good.
Rayna had spent the morning trying to think of only the good, and now she stood on the upper deck hanging a fresh load of wash. At dawn just two short hours ago, the circus had pulled away from Memphis as a winner, a grand success. Nothing, if you didn’t count the rash of bad luck that seemed to be hounding J.R., had gone wrong.
Maybe, Rayna thought, the younger Gantry was in possession of his very own black cloud. It seemed that if J.R. wasn’t stumbling over his own feet, he was tripping over hers or Gant’s, or anyone who happened to be in his way. Even the lions, usually so willing to put on a ferocious show of defiance when he barked his orders, appeared to go out of their way to avoid him. It was almost as if the beasts somehow knew that getting too close to J.R. could spell disaster for them all.
Trying not to worry too much about his streak of bad luck, Rayna reached down into the basket and withdrew one of Maria’s tiny blouses. As she stretched toward the clothesline, the rope suddenly popped, and then reverberated, sending all the clothing into a fluttery little ghost dance.
A moment later, Gant strode out from behind the clean sheets.
“Ah,” he said, filling his lungs with crisp dew-kissed air. “So there you are. How are you this morning?”
Keeping on eye beyond Gant to where the Bailey children played, Rayna grinned as she quietly said, “Not as good as I was last night, but better than I was the day before.”
Also aware that the children and Duke’s snag spotters were just ahead of them, Gant kept his voice low. Rolling his eyes, pretending he couldn’t remember that after he’d convinced J.R. to stay in town last night, he’d taken Rayna to his cabin, he said, “Last night, huh? Oh, now I remember. A wild u
ninhibited Gypsy woman came to my room and took me on a hard ride that lasted until early this morning. Was that you?”
Rayna slapped the backs of Gant’s thighs with a wet towel, and then went back to her wash. He settled himself against the railing, noticing that she’d braided her thick hair into one raven rope that hung down to the middle of her back, swinging there, pendulum-style as she pinned the clothes to the line. Yet the woman herself exuded sensuality, a sultry air that directly contrasted to the domestic shores she performed. Rayna Sebastiani was one hell of a washerwoman, Gant thought with a chuckle, and would probably make one hellaciously satisfying wife.
At the idea of Rayna marrying anyone, including him, Gant’s breath caught. For the past few days, especially last night, he’d been trying to find a way to talk to her, to speak the words of love that kept fluttering around in his mind. Now he finally understood why he hadn’t been able to mention his burgeoning feelings, and why he’d been unable to utter that tiny little sentence. Love and the words expressing love belonged in courtship, and Gant was in no position to court her or anyone.
After Rayna hung the last garment on the clotheslines, she kicked the basket aside and joined him by the railing.
“What time did your brother finally make it back last night?” she asked, adding, “That’s assuming that he didn’t break his neck on the way home.”
Even though concerned about his brother’s unusually awkward behavior of late, Gant had to laugh. “He came in just before dawn this morning, decidedly a little worse for the wear, but in one piece as far as I could tell. Have you seen him yet?”
She shook her head. “Isn’t he still sleeping in your cabin?”
“No.” Gant scanned the upper deck, and then leaned over the railing and searched the floors below. Still no sign of J.R. “I can’t imagine where he could be hiding on this ship. I just came from the arena and so far, he hasn’t even showed up for breakfast. It’s not like J.R. to miss a meal.”
“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll turn up.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Gant saw that Mollie was approaching with both William and Minnie in hand.
“Thanks for watching my babies, Rayna,” she said as she reached them. “We’re off for a little hair-washing now.”
“Can you keep an eye out for my brother?” Gant asked before Mollie could get away. “I haven’t seen J.R. all morning.”
Mollie thought about that and slowly shook her head. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him since the final show last night. You don’t think he missed the boat, do you?”
“No,” Gant said. “He’s probably curled up sleeping somewhere.”
Mollie shrugged and then headed toward the stairwell as Gant added, “If you run into him, tell J.R. I’m looking for him, all right?”
Mollie waved, acknowledging him. As Gant swung his gaze back around to Rayna, he caught sight of a small boat down river. It was coming up fast and heading right for the steamship. From the distance Gant could see the figures of two men, one hunched over the wheel, the other, his silhouette squat, broad of chest, was standing and pointing to the paddlewheeler.
Following the direction of Gant’s gaze, Rayna leaned over the railing and squinted into the harsh glare of the morning sun reflected off of the water.
“What’s going on?” she asked, shading her eyes. “Is that who I think it is?”
His expression grim, Gant said, “It certainly looks like him, doesn’t it.”
As the boat drew closer and the craft finally pulled even with the steamship, there was no doubt that the passenger was indeed Gant’s brother. J.R. leapt from the smaller boat to the larger ship, and then snapped his head up toward the top deck.
“Hey, Gant,” he hollered with a grin.
Shouting down to him, Gant said, “Get your hide up here, now.”
Although Gant hadn’t thought it possible, J.R.’s short legs carried him up to the upper deck in less than a minute. Out of breath, he sauntered up to the railing, tipped his hat to Rayna, and offered his brother a self-conscious grin.
“Morning, Gant. I suppose you’re wondering why I had to hire a boat to bring me back to the ship.”
“I guess you might say that. Where the hell have you been?”
“I had to go back to town for a spell.”
J.R. glanced at Rayna and lowered his gaze as he struggled with a delicate way to explain the problem.
He finally said, “It seems I’d no more than stepped aboard the ship this morning fore I realized that I’d gone and left my lucky charm behind.”
With another glance at Rayna, J.R. lowered his voice. “I left it at Madame LaDonna’s. Anyways, I didn’t take the time to find you and tell you cause I knew we was getting ready to shove off, so I run back to town, got the charm, and then run back. Would a made it with time to spare too, but I musta took a wrong turn somewhere. By the time I heard the ship’s whistle, I was too late to catch up with you.”
Gant sighed. “You made it, so I suppose we should be grateful for that.”
The wind shifted then, kicking up a whiff of J.R.’s pungent odor and into the nostrils of anyone or anything that happened to be breathing. Rayna turned her head and moved away from him until she was up wind.
Grimacing as the odor smacked him in the face, Gant said, “Pee-hew, kid. Have you been strolling through Sweetpea’s private garden again?”
J.R. sniffed the air, wrinkled his nose, and then lifted his boot for inspection.
“Damn,” he muttered, finding the expected mess on the worn sole. “Lately it seems if there’s a pile of shit somewhere, I step in it.” He glanced toward Rayna. “Pardon my language, ma’am, but I can’t hardly believe my luck these days.”
“Speaking of luck,” Gant said, holding out his hand. “Maybe you’d better give that lucky charm back to me. I don’t think it’s doing you much good.”
“Lucky charm?” In spite of the odor, Rayna stepped between the brothers. “I don’t recall you mentioning that you owned a lucky charm, Gant.”
“It wasn’t mine for long. Your mother gave it to me about a week or so ago, the day she had that little talk with me. I gave it to J.R. after Zoltaire ripped me opened.”
“Oh, no.” Rayna’s heart did a back flip. “My mother gave you something and said that it was a lucky charm?”
Gant nodded. “At the time, I thought it was really nice of her.”
“Shit.” Rayna jerked her head toward J.R. “Pardon my language. Where is this charm now?”
J.R. dug into his pocket and withdrew the jaguar.
Rayna snatched it up. “Good Lord. Black onyx.”
Gant leaned over her shoulder. “What’s wrong with that? It looks harmless enough. Your mother said it would bring me luck if I kept it with me.”
Rayna turned the object over in her hand, unable to contain a sudden shudder as the cold slick bit of chalcedony slid across her skin.
“I’m not an expert on these matters,” she admitted, “but I know this is a talisman and that it’s meant to cause bad luck to the recipient. Black onyx given as a gift is always bad luck.”
J.R. nudged his brother’s ribs. “Guess that lady meant business when she told you to stay away from her daughter.”
Gant reached into Rayna’s hand and withdrew the jaguar. Studying the figurine, he asked her, “Could this have had something to do with Zoltaire’s attack on me?”
“Probably,” she said. Turning to J.R. she added, “And it almost certainly is the reason you can’t go anywhere without stepping in a pile of dung.”
Holding the charm aloft, Gant asked, “What should we do with it? Toss it overboard?”
“No.” Rayna quickly stepped between Gant and the railing. “I may not know a lot about these things, but I have a feeling that throwing this away might make the bad luck even more powerful than it already is.”
“Then what do I do with it?” Gant asked. “Maybe we ought to ask your mother. If anyone knows how to undo this bad luck business, i
t would be her.”
Rayna glanced over the railing and down to the floor below. Maria was waddling toward the back of the ship, her steps slow and sluggish. About then, Hans came into view. He followed Maria to the low railing at the back of the ship, where oddly enough she got down on her fragile knees.
Furrowing her brow, wondering what mischief the two of them might be up to, Rayna turned back to Gant. “We can’t ask my mother about the charm. She’s trying to keep us apart. If she knows this isn’t working, she’ll just think of something else.”
“We have to do something with it,” Gant said. “We sure can’t have J.R. going around stepping in every pile of droppings he gets near. If I keep it, I have a feeling I won’t be so lucky next time I get near one of the lions. What do we do?”
