Fanny and I get on either side of Tina and push, push, push, until the pole is straight.
“Gee, thanks!” Tina says. She sits down right where she is. “I am hot as a bear and too pooped to pop. If I—oh no,” she mutters.
“What?” Fanny rushes to her friend’s side.
Tina is staring up the circus midway, the central path between tents. “Will you look who’s strolling among us peasants? Aren’t we the lucky ones.”
I follow her gaze and see three white horses strutting our way. These are no ordinary horses. Sweat drips into my eyes, and I blink it away. These horses are true Lipizzans, white as stars, graceful as deer at dawn.
“They’re not my kind of mammal, mind you,” Harold says. He has temporarily stopped his peanut hunt. “But those are some mighty fine four-legged creatures.”
The horse in the center is the most beautiful. She prances toward us, and the other two follow, a nose behind. Her white coat glitters in the sunlight. Even though she’s just out for a stroll, her head and tail are held high, and she lifts her hooves as if stepping over low jumps.
“That’s Queenie,” Fanny says.
“Queen of the Circus,” Tina adds, nearly spitting out the words. “She thinks she owns the circus, and we’re all her peasants.”
“Now, now,” Fanny says. “Let’s not speak ill of our fellow circus animals, or anyone else.”
I cannot take my eyes off this white horse, even though I know it’s bad manners to stare.
When the horses are directly in front of us, Queenie stops. The others scramble to keep from bumping into her.
“Hmmm …” Tina sticks out her trunk and sniffs a bit. “What’s that smell?” She bends her trunk so the holes are plugged against her wrinkly chest. “All of a sudden, it stinks to high heaven around here.”
I laugh and get a scowl from the lead Lipizzan.
The mare eyes me up and down. Her upper lip curls, showing clean white teeth. “Tell me this isn’t the new horse.”
“I think so, Queenie,” says one of her followers.
“This?” Queenie says, her chin jutting in my direction, making her lift her head even higher.
“That’s what I heard,” says the other follower.
And then Queenie lets out a giant, and unbecoming, horse laugh. “That’s a horse?” she asks, when her laughter allows her to speak.
“It’s definitely a horse,” says the first Lipizzan. “See the hooves and the—”
Queenie won’t let her finish. “There is no way this … this creature … and I are the same species! Are you sure he’s not an elephant?”
“Funny, Queenie,” Tina snaps. “I’d like to see you carry a load like Fred here does.”
“Well, you won’t,” Queenie snaps back. “Because I am not a work horse. I am a performing horse! Come on, girls. Let’s allow these … elephants to get back to work!”
20
Queens and Princesses
Queenie and her friends prance away. They glance back and then erupt into horse laughs.
“That horse,” Tina complains. “She steams my trunk! I don’t suppose you’ve met Princess yet, have you?”
I shake my head. “Another Lipizzan?”
“Human,” Tina says. “Barely. She’s a human version of Queenie.”
“I don’t like to speak ill of any soul,” Fanny says, “but Tina’s right. Those two, Queenie and Princess, Queenie’s rider, are cut from the same cloth. Spittin’ images.”
“Those two may be the headliners of the circus,” Tina says. “But they’re also the head cases of the circus. They act like they think they’re better than everyone else. Gets my goat, I’ll tell you!”
“They’re sure purty,” Harold finally chimes in.
“And don’t they know it!” Tina says. “Purty stuck on themselves, that is. Princess and her human gals are just as bad as the horses.”
“Not all of them,” Fanny says. “That new girl is as sweet as she can be.”
“She brings us peanuts,” Harold says. “Buys them with her own money too.”
“I think she’s the best rider in the show,” Tina says. “A lot better than Princess. I heard that Princess treats the new girl like dirt. Probably jealous of her already. She’s only been here a couple of weeks, so she has to ride Diamond, the third horse you saw. Diamond’s bumpy. I don’t know how that new girl can stay up on him.”
Fanny and I work together the rest of the day, clearing and helping set up the circus tents. That elephant is so smart and personable that I think she could do a lot of other jobs.
“Fanny, if you don’t mind my asking, and since you did ask me, haven’t you ever thought about doing something else with your life?”
Fanny snorts. “Mercy, no! I would miss the circus life. The thrill of it all when the lights go on.”
As if they’ve been listening to Fanny the Elephant, the lights do go on all across the midway. They twinkle from strings hung crisscross over the main aisle. Torches of fire hang at each tent’s entrance.
We stand on a hill and look down on the scene. “What else would you miss, Fanny?”
“So many things, sweetie. The squeals of the children when they first see the big tent. The shouts of the barker, calling folks to come inside and take a peek. The midway smells of corn on the cob, popcorn, hot dogs, and peanuts, of course.”
Fanny’s eyes look misty. She sighs. “No, Fred. I was born to be a circus elephant. That must be why I’m so happy here. I couldn’t stand it if I stopped seeing the joy on those children’s faces. Circus joy, that’s what it is. And I got it too, in my veins.”
As we watch the grounds swell with humans, I try to work things out in my head. What about this feeling of being born to do something? Do some plow horses feel born to plow? It had never occurred to me that for some horses, plowing was their dream. Maybe plowing made them feel worthwhile, the way Fanny feels about her work. I do remember one old mare at the first farm I ever worked. Every morning, she headed for the field with a smile on her face. And in the evening, she and a big bay gelding used to talk about their straight rows and how much of the field they’d been able to finish. They seemed happy to me.
It’s all so confusing. If I were born to be a plow horse, wouldn’t I have been content and happy plowing?
Why wasn’t I? Why was I happiest when I was dancing?
The circus grows louder and louder. I can see what Fanny means about the barkers. Their cries can be heard all over the circus: “Come see the five-hundred-pound fat lady!” “Ladies and gentlemen! In this tent is the world’s strongest man!” “Tickets! Tickets! Tickets!”
I have to admit it’s rather exciting. Children dart from place to place, laughing, while grown-ups stroll the midway arm in arm.
I’ve almost forgotten about Fanny, when she taps my shoulder with her trunk.
“Are you all right, Fred?” she asks.
I nod. “Just a lot on my mind, I suppose.”
A breeze kicks up, and with it comes the sound of music. I hold my breath and find I have to swallow tears.
“You hear the music?” Fanny asks.
I manage a nod.
“It’s heavenly, isn’t it?” she says.
“Where’s it coming from?” There’s something familiar about the slow, classical melody floating over the circus grounds. I feel as if I’m being washed by the music. It covers the red dust of an Oklahoma field, the black dirt of the cattle drive, the splintery floor of that old shed, and the rocky ground of the marketplace.
“It’s coming from the main tent, dear,” Fanny says. “The horses must be about to perform.”
“The horses?” I ask.
“And their riders. Queenie and Princess and the others. The dancing horse act. You should go, Fred,” Fanny urges. “Wouldn’t you like to see the horses dance?”
Would I? Do I want to see other horses doing what I used to dream about?… What I still dream about?
“Come on. I’ll show you.” Fan
ny nudges me with her trunk, then guides me right up the midway. Tiny flags wave in the breeze as we pass tent after tent.
When we reach the biggest tent, Fanny says, “Well, this is it.” She motions toward the entrance, where a tent flap is pinned back.
I try to see inside. It isn’t easy. People are streaming in. I see the metal bleachers the elephants and I hauled over, and they’re teeming with humans. The tent is filling fast.
Suddenly, Queenie bursts out of the tent and trots past us, nearly running over a family with six redheaded kids, including a baby. “I refuse to perform under these conditions! I am Queenie, the star of the show! I’ve tried to tell these humans that I want new costumes. But do I get them? No!”
I’m not sure if she’s talking to her two friends, who cower just inside the tent. Or to herself.
Leo, the circus manager, trails behind her. “Queenie, I can’t have you walking out on me! Not again!” He’s shouting louder than the barkers. I have a feeling part of his volume comes from anger.
Queenie spins around to face him, and he takes a step back. She stretches out her neck and lays her ears back flat. She’s apparently angry as well. “I’m not carrying that rude girl, Princess, and you can’t make me!”
I have to wonder if this horse realizes that humans don’t understand her words.
Queenie shows her teeth to Leo and shouts, “I quit!” Then she turns and gallops off.
Leo points at the disappearing white horse and shakes his finger. “You’re fired!”
21
On with the Show!
We all watch Queenie until she’s completely out of sight.
“Now what am I going to do?” Leo shouts.
Tina and Harold have joined Fanny and me.
“Was that Queenie?” Tina asks. “Did Leo just fire her?” Tina is laughing.
“Or she quit,” Fanny says. “Hard to say which.”
Harold is still looking at the spot where Queenie could last be seen. “She sure was purty,” he says.
A young girl with red curls piled on top of her head storms out of the tent. She’s wearing white tights and a pink ballet tutu. “Leo!” she screams. “Now what am I supposed to do?” She stomps her foot.
“That’s Princess,” Fanny explains.
“I guessed as much.” If Queenie were to turn into a human, this is the human she would become. They even have the same scowl.
“Right-o!” Leo barks. “Queenie was your ride, wasn’t she? Yes. That does present a problem.”
“I’ll just take Ruby’s horse,” Princess announces.
A girl dressed just like Princess is standing behind her. “But if you ride my horse, what will I ride?” This must be Ruby.
“That’s not my problem,” Princess says.
“Princess!” Ruby whines and throws a little tantrum, stomping her feet and wailing.
Princess glances around at the crowd waiting to get into the tent. “Oh, stop bawling, Ruby!” Princess shouts. “You can ride what’s-her-name’s horse. That new girl. She’s been riding Diamond. You take Diamond, and I’ll take your horse, Royal. That should put the new girl in her place once and for all.”
During this conversation, Leo the circus manager has not been managing. “Wait. Girls! Girls? I’m not sure that’s fair to the new girl. She’s—”
But Princess and Ruby have gone back inside the tent, no doubt to give the unfortunate new girl the good news.
“That poor gal’s going to be disappointed not getting to ride in center ring tonight,” Fanny says. “She’s been practicing and practicing.”
I move in closer to the tent. I want to hear that music again. And I admit I’m curious as to how the new girl will handle the news.
Tina gives me a hard shove with her trunk. “Go on in, Fred. You can tell us what’s going on.”
I step inside. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the lights. Right away, in the smaller arena, probably the practice arena, I spot Princess and Ruby and another girl dressed just like them.
The third girl is standing on one of the white horses. Her back is to me, and the other two girls are yelling at her from the ground. I can tell she’s as comfortable standing on the back of that horse as she’d be standing on the ground. I remember what Tina said about her being the best rider. I believe it. Simply bending down to talk to the other two girls, this girl is as graceful as an angel.
There’s something familiar about her …
Suddenly, Princess reaches up, grabs the new girl’s ankle, and pulls it out from underneath her. The poor girl falls and lands on her stomach with a thump. Her body bounces in the sawdust of the arena.
I can’t believe it! I gallop into the arena to keep Princess from harming the girl further.
The girl appears to be struggling to get her breath. Just as I arrive at her side, she turns over onto her back. When she looks at me, her green eyes grow as round as the full moon.
It’s Lena. The new girl is my Lena!
“Fred? Is it really you? It can’t be. But it is!” She jumps up and flings her arms around me. “You’re here! I’m not dreaming. You’re really and truly here!” She draws back. “Unless I hit my head too hard and I’m crazier than a june bug in August.”
I nudge Lena and nicker.
“It is you, Fred! I’d know that nicker anywhere!”
I nuzzle her and feel warm tears well up in my throat. Lena. My Lena. I thought I’d never see her again.
“Well, you can knock me in the teeth and call me Mabel!” Lena exclaims. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. She scratches me behind the ears, just like in the old days. “I’ve missed you so much, Fred! You have no idea.”
She’s wrong about that. As hard as I’ve tried not to think about her, the pain of missing Lena has always been there, in my heart, with my mother’s song.
“I’ve never forgotten you, Fred,” Lena continues. “I’ve missed you something awful. You’re the reason I’m here, you know!”
This confuses me, but I listen.
“You were bound and determined I oughta keep dancing. You gave me the guts to dream and the gumption to do something about it. I finally done run away from Uncle Herbert, Cousin Rollo, and that sorry excuse for a farm. And none too soon neither.
“When the circus came to town, I snuck off and joined up. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been dancing on the back of one of them white horses. They’re pretty snooty. But I do love dancing in the circus.”
I’m so proud of Lena for following her dream. And I’m pleased to hear her say I had a small part in that. Somehow, that’s better than reaching my own dream. I feel like I did when Bessie announced she was going to be a cow comedian. Or when Mary realized she was getting a pony. Or like I felt when Jonathan and Molly got enough money to go to New York.
Only I feel that joy a hundred times over for my Lena.
Lena presses her soft cheek against my neck, and I could stay like this forever.
“Circus dancing is a hoot, Fred,” she says. “Only no horse has ever been as good as you at dancing. Those white horses with their skinny backs can’t hold a candle to you. Why, I can’t even do a pirouette without falling off.”
Leo runs up to us. “Are you all right, Lena?” he shouts. “I saw what Princess did to you. She shouldn’t have done that, and I told her so. But those two gals have been here longer than you. So if we’ve just got two horses, I’m afraid I have to let them ride tonight.”
Lena hangs her head, then nods at him.
“I’m awful sorry,” Leo continues. “I know I promised you center ring tonight, but without a horse … well, I knew you’d understand.”
Lena nods again, and sniffs. “Yeah. I reckon,” she says.
I can’t stand seeing Lena sad. Tonight was going to be her big moment in center ring. And now she can’t even ride? Just because that Queen horse stormed off?
It’s not fair. No one dances better than Lena. If they could just see her …
Lena reache
s up and scratches my back. I recall the feel of her toes as she danced there, light as a feather.
And then the thought comes: Lena could dance there again.
But no. She couldn’t. I couldn’t. I’ve stopped dancing. Haven’t I? And anyway, how long has it been since Lena and I danced together?
No. No. No. I’d just be setting myself up again, shooting for my dancing dream and missing once more.
I glance back at Lena. She’s watching the other two girls ride their white horses into the center ring.
Circus music starts up again, louder now. It’s lovely and lively. Something inside of me sparks, lights, then bursts into bright flames. Music! I can’t keep still. My body moves to the beat.
Lena laughs through her tears. “Aw, Fred. Look at you swaying to that music! You just can’t help yourself, can you? You were born to dance.”
Born to dance. I think about those words. I chew them. And then I swallow.
I am a born dancer! Dancing is my destiny!
I throw myself into the music and dance.
From the tent entrance, my elephant friends cheer.
I whinny to them. Then I get down on my knees until I’m eye to eye with Lena. I lock my gaze onto hers and won’t let go.
Lena shakes her head slowly. “Fred, you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”
I am fairly certain that I am. I nod.
“No siree! Do you want Princess and her gals and them horses to run us clean out of the circus?”
I use my head to motion Lena to climb aboard. I know the music must be filling her the same way it fills me. She was born to dance too.
Lena narrows her eyes at me. Slowly, her lips curl into a giant grin. She reaches up to her headdress, pulls out a handful of feathers, and sticks them into my mane. Then my Lena hops aboard. “As they say in the business, Fred, on with the show!”
I spring to my feet and prance to the center arena, where two white horses are cantering in a tight circle. Princess and Ruby stand on their horses’ backs. But I am surprised to see that they are not really dancing.
I fall in behind the horse they call Diamond. He glares at me over his rump, then kicks out his hind leg and catches me on the chest. His hoof is so small I barely feel it.
Dreams of a Dancing Horse Page 8
