Annis opened her mouth to argue a second time but was met with a silent warning in the man’s steely glare she understood she’d do well to heed.
“How much?” she asked, strength waning from her voice even as she set to strike her own terms for the exchange. Her mind, ever alert, took note of her body’s evident betrayal and cursed herself for her weakness. “For the water. How much will it cost?” She hadn’t a penny to her name, but at least the number would set her debt before she accumulated it.
“You’ve only just shown up and you’re already a right pain in my arse, you know that?” the man said with a snort, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger, a move she knew all too well from her mother, who had never hesitated to let Annis know when she was cuing the next migraine with what she called Annis’s insipid conversations and foolish behavior. “We don’t charge for water here, love. It’s not the sort of business we’re in. You want to pay me, you come see the show. I’ll charge you any night of the week for that.”
“But,” her mouth hung open, her arguments running thin. With little left to counter with, she ran her tongue over her lower lip, stalling for time. She felt the sandpaper skin of her own mouth. Her hand went up to touch it, only to find it was not only rough and cracked, but dry as the desert in the midday sun. Not even her tongue held moisture anymore. At last, she surrendered to his offer, taking the canteen and moving it up to her lips without another word.
She drank. Cold water flooded her throat, awakening everything within, sending an icy rush through her chest and down to her belly. Gulp after gulp, the liquid moved through her. Within moments she’d emptied the entire canteen, leaving her more aware of her thirst than she’d been before even tasting a sip.
The man smiled oddly at her, reminding Annis of the way she used to peer at baby chicks when they first hatched out in the hen house. They were awkward and strange looking at first, but curious and sweet all the same. She couldn’t decide if she took offense to his expression or not. He took the canteen from her before she came to a conclusion either way. “We’ll get more. Just let it settle for a moment or it’ll turn your stomach.”
She nodded, wiping the spilled water from where it had dribbled down to her chin. “About the job,” she began again, determined to make a case for herself.
“You ever done any work like this?” he asked.
She began to say an adamant yes, but then reconsidered the lie. “I’ve performed.” She tried to hide her shaking hands by pulling the loose strands of hair away from her face and back over her shoulder. She regretted the move at once. The man raised his brows to meet the rim of his blue cap. The line of his mouth pulled in toward the center and stopped just short of a frown at the sight of her now fully exposed face, which she knew was likely covered in dirt and blood.
“How old are you?” he asked, his eyes narrow.
“Twenty, sir,” she said, swallowing. Though lying had never come easily to her, this wasn’t the first lie she’d told the man. Somehow the first one had come naturally. The words just came out of her mouth without forethought. Maybe they were my last remaining truth, she thought.
At last he smirked, lifting his brows and straightening his shoulders. “Well, we can pretend I believe that.” He chuckled softly. “Come along, then.” He gave her a nod and began to walk past her toward the workers who’d resumed their tasks. Some of them tended to animals, others flitted about with an abundance of props and costumes nearly flowing from their grasps as they flew past. The bulk of the crew carried on setting up the circus tent.
“Wait. Are you giving me a job?” she asked, almost afraid to believe her good fortune. “You’re letting me stay? Just like that?”
“It’s the circus, love. No one comes to stay except me and Babe, but you can come along for the ride as long as you wish and get off when you’ve had enough.” He glanced back at her over his shoulder, winking. “You say you’ve performed?”
“Yes. Yes, sir.” Her stride was half the length of his and her tired legs fought to keep his pace. “I’ve been a dancer from the time I was four, sir.” He stopped abruptly and Annis nearly collided with him. He turned to face her.
“Before this goes any further, we need to clear something up, love,” he said.
Annis braced herself for his next words. She knew it had been too easy. There would be strings attached to the job. Her mind began to race through all the despicable deeds she’d be forced to participate in. Thievery. Fraud. The imaginary list grew longer as she considered the ways in which one could be forced to collude in schemes of lawless greed and deceit.
“It’s Hugh,” he said, catching her completely off guard with the simplicity of his words. “Not sir. Not mister.” His tone was calm but stern, with a slight emphasis on the labels he eschewed. “Just Hugh. Or Poppy, when you get comfortable.” He tilted his head, brows furrowed, but his eyes still twinkled. “Are we clear?”
She nodded. And then she shook her head. She decided it was likely she was delirious from exhaustion, delusional from dehydration, and just plain slow from being starved, but she was also certain that nothing was clear. He was the ringmaster, was he not? Calling him “sir” seemed more appropriate, given his role, than simply Hugh or, God forbid, Poppy. “I’m sorry?” was all she could say.
“That car there,” he explained, pointing his long, bony finger to where they’d just met. “It’s got my name on it right along with Babe’s. Not because this is our business but because it’s our family. Our home.” He hunched down closer to her and spoke more softly. “We never set out to run a circus, love. We ran away, and the circus found us. Same as you. Same as everyone you see here. You want to work here, you’re welcome to any job that needs doing. You’ll have your cut of the night’s take every show you’re here for, same as everyone else. And we all get an equal share. Even me. Even Babe. And we don’t get called fussy things like sir. Or mister. Not me. Definitely not Babe.” Annis began to nod her head, still not fully comprehending this unexpected turn in her newfound salvation but eager to please in order to keep it.
“Alright, then,” he said, smiling. “Onward.” He turned, stretching his fist out to lead the way straight into the nearest huddle of people, who were all working together to string up the massive tarp of the tent and preparing to mount it over the poles that were already in place. Annis gaped at the sight of men and women of all ages and colors, working together as equals, tackling tasks she imagined must be done in complete unison.
“They’ll just be a minute,” Hugh said, glancing back and forth between her and the workers, amusement dancing in his eyes at her state of awe. And though her gaze stayed with the display before her, her mind engaged in a grand game of ping pong, thoughts flying back and forth between the men and women at work and the strange but kind man standing beside her. What must he be thinking of her and the pitiful state she was in, the obvious lies she had told? He had to have had some thoughts about those. And, given his clear skills of observation, they likely weren’t far off. Surely, he’d deduced she was a runaway. He probably wondered if she was hiding from the law. If so, what did he imagine her guilty of? Stealing? Most likely. How many crimes could she really have pursued successfully beyond petty theft? Nothing about her frail and bedraggled body suggested she was physically capable of causing harm to anything larger than a garden snake. Or what about arson? Maybe he thought her to be some sort of firebug. That could even have been the reason he’d let her stay. A knack for playing with flames would probably come in handy around the circus. Alas, the longer she entertained the notion, the more she reconsidered what he was truly looking at when he saw her. Long wispy hair, hardly suitable for being around open flames. Her pasty, pale skin now bore marks that could only imply a massacre of sorts had taken place. But even underneath the dried blood and layers of dirt, the softness of her skin still gave evidence of a girl who, until quite recently, had never suffered more than a needle prick, let alone a burn.
More obvious than anything else, s
he thought, was her cowardice. The meek way in which she carried herself, light footed and hesitant in her every move. If she was perfectly honest with herself, Annis knew no one would ever count her as a scoundrel. She was running, certainly, but not because she’d sought out trouble. That the trouble had sought her would be clear to anyone.
She dared a sideways glance in Hugh’s direction. He was polite enough to pretend not to notice, even if the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. Whatever he thought of her, it couldn’t be all bad. More importantly, she was starting to think all the bad she’d thought about him, and the likes of those who found themselves drawn to the circus, couldn’t be all true either. If there was even a kernel of truth to any of it at all. Her gaze shifted back toward the scene unfolding before her and she finally registered what Hugh had said.
“Just a minute,” she echoed his last words dryly, her mind still stuck somewhere between disbelief and a growing acceptance that anything was possible as she took in the scene before her. “Who am I to doubt anything?” Annis wondered to herself. As if on cue, the tent rose from the ground on someone’s count of three and began to glide smoothly over its skeleton of poles and beams. Within a matter of moments, the entire structure was secure and Annis was standing in front of a magnificent display of bright red and yellow stripes. Thick golden trim marked the seams of the canvas and matching tassels dangled at each point of the structure. Scarlet flags marked the highest peaks, each flapping in the breeze.
“Wow,” she breathed. She hadn’t yet noticed the crowd forming around her, composed of people eager to meet the newcomer.
“Annis,” Hugh said. When she didn’t react, he said it a second time. “Annis?”
This time she registered the sound of her name and her cheeks reddened. “Oh.” Now that she was facing everyone, she saw just how much the differences between them spanned the spectrum. Men and women, young and old. Some freakishly tall, others surprisingly small. Women with short hair. Men with long. Large men. Some made up of muscle, some not. The only thing they all had in common was that there was something entirely unexpected in each of them.
Whether he was unaware of her momentary shock or had expected such a reaction, Hugh never let on. He simply carried on as though everything were normal. Perhaps such a scene would be less surprising to young women who had led less sheltered lives.
Nodding to his left at the person nearest to him, Hugh began, “Annis, this is Babe. She’s the Bennet of Brooks and Bennet Circus.” Hugh grinned and reached out to embrace a stout, jolly looking man with a massive beard and long curly, blond hair that was tied together in a loose, thick braid draped over his shoulder. Babe wore flowing garments that resembled a dress and reached his ankles. He took Annis’s hand and curtsied. “Annis, you adorable tulip. I just want to hug and kiss you. May I?”
“Oh, okay,” Annis said as Babe squeezed her into a rib-crushing hug that brought her to tears—not from pain, but from the emotional overwhelm at the display of such affection from a complete stranger.
“You’ll be safe here, Tulip,” Babe whispered, cheek pressed to her ear. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Babe’ll get you washed up and patched up in no time,” he promised in a voice that sounded neither masculine nor feminine, and which Annis could only describe as maternal.
She sighed, melting into the tight embrace, and allowed herself just a moment of peace before untangling herself from his welcoming arms. “Thank you,” Annis mumbled as she stepped back.
“I know Babe will be fussing over you just as soon as she gets you out of here,” Annis heard a woman’s voice say from somewhere in the center of the crowd that now formed a nearly complete circle around where she stood. Annis was too focused on Babe being referred to as she to identify the speaker right away. When she did, she noticed the woman was older than Hugh and Babe, with smooth dark skin that reminded Annis of her father’s morning coffee. The woman wore her black hair in tight twists that snaked the sides of her head until they met to form a knotted bun. Never had Annis met a woman who commanded such presence. She spoke in a rough, brash voice, with both hands fisted and set high on her waist. “When she sets you free, you come find Momma T. I do all the cookin’ ‘round here, and you, girl, look like you ain’t eaten in days.”
It was mostly true. Annis had eaten, though what she’d consumed could barely qualify as food. “Thank you, ma’a—” She stopped mid-word when Hugh shook his head at her, one brow arched, indicating she ought to know better by now. “—Momma T,” she corrected with a meek smile at the woman who, unlike Babe, seemed to house no motherly bone in her body. Annis thought it was a stretch even to call Momma T friendly, with her squared shoulders, thin lips, and heavy-lidded eyes.
“Don’t you worry none,” a chipper voice said from Annis’s lower left. “Momma T’s only scary ‘til you taste her beans and cornbread.” Annis’s eyes followed her ears until they landed on a man with messy, walnut-colored hair poking out in all directions beneath his frayed gray cap. He came up just below her hip, though he looked slightly older than she was. His sprite-like eyes met hers. He smiled like he knew exactly what she’d been thinking and had maybe even been waiting for her to finish her thought before he carried on. “Her food is where she keeps her heart. You’ll see.” He grinned, reaching his hand out to her. “Name’s Sawyer. Most folks call me Sawyer Smalls, or Smalls for short.” He paused, his eyes twinkling with delight at his own joke. “See what I did there?”
Annis nodded, unsure if it was in good taste to laugh. Instead, she took his hand and shook it politely. “Annis. It’s lovely to meet you.” His grasp was stronger than she’d expected.
“Give it a week,” he said. “Then you’ll know better.” He winked, releasing her hand. This time, she let out a spontaneous giggle.
“Right, then,” Hugh chimed in impatiently, placing both hands on his hips and giving a disapproving glare around the circle, which had lost some of its order due to the recent introductions. “If I’d known you’d all turn this into a bloody pre-show production, I’d have just called out everyone’s name in passing and pointed.” A rash of amused muttering erupted from the crowd, but they obliged his implied request for order and lined up shoulder to shoulder.
Once they were settled, he continued. “Alright, we haven’t got all day to do this, so I’ll go ‘round. I’ll say your name and you raise your hand, smile, curtsy, or do a ruddy headstand, for all I care. Just identify yourself and then let me move it along.”
He reached his long arm out and took Annis’s shoulder. “Come stand here, love,” he said, directing her to an overturned bucket on the ground nearby. “Get up high so you can see everyone.” Annis did as she was told, and Hugh began rattling off names. They were claimed, one by one, by someone in the crowd.
“Mabel. Maude.”
There was a brief interlude for Annis to spot them. She noticed they not only had identical raven hair and alabaster skin, but also their hips were fused together below the waist so that one twin was always on the left and the other always on the right. They wore a garment made from two conjoined dresses that were tailored for their needs. Both women waved, smiling as they welcomed her.
“Margaret. Oscar.”
A woman and man, both nearly as round as Hugh was tall, stepped forward ever so slightly, and the man’s protruding belly bumped into the woman in front of him, making her laugh as she jumped forward to keep from falling.
“And that there’s Bess. She’s our tightrope walker. Everyone’s always trying to make her fall, see. Just for fun, of course. ’Cause it can’t be done,” Hugh said before quickly continuing his roll call before the crowd lost all order again. By the time he finished, Annis had met trapeze artists Della and Leo; Homer, who could juggle anything from plates to balls of fire; Floyd, an albino man in his seventies; August, who claimed to be the strongest man alive; and Caroline, a red-haired woman with an unusual capacity to bend and contort herself. Caroline really did do a headstand to in
troduce herself, except she’d taken Hugh’s invitation literally and, once in an inverted position, bent her feet back until she was actually standing on her own head. Annis met Francis and Will, who did the heavy lifting for Brooks and Bennet. They were on the run from the authorities for their many thieving transgressions. Then there was Lila, Etta, and Viola, a lovely singing trio who were all sisters born to a slave mother and privileged father, both of whom had been executed for their affair. By the time Hugh stopped spouting off names, Annis was dizzy from the volume of information, as well as the oddity of it all.
She was about to ask if there was a place where she could perhaps get another drink of water and a brief moment of solitude to gather her wits when Babe said, “Wait! She hasn’t met Sequoyah. Where is that boy, anyway? Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t recall seeing him at all today.” Babe seemed worried as she looked past the group to scan the valley beyond.
“Something spooked the horses last night. He took off after them,” said Will, the younger and burlier of the two tag-along thieves. “He’ll turn up, Babe. Don’t you worry. He always does.”
Hugh wrapped his arm over Babe’s shoulders, curling his wrist around her neck and leaning down to tell her, softly, “He’s right, you know. Sequoyah knows what he’s doing. You go on and get Annis settled and I’m sure he’ll turn up just as soon as you stop looking.”
Babe sighed, her shoulders sagging. “That boy’s going to have his name on my every last worry line by the time I’m old and wrinkled.” She took another deep breath and shook loose her broad shoulders. A timid smile returned to her face, restoring the kindness to it that Annis was already used to from her. Her. The female pronoun for Babe seemed equal parts odd and appropriate.
“Alright, Tulip. How about we start with getting you a drink of water? You must be absolutely parched,” Babe said. She smiled, but Annis noticed her eyes held a dim of worry as she carried on without so much as expecting a response. “And then let’s see if we can find the real girl hiding under all of this dirt and distress.” Annis was tempted to tell her the real girl would never be found, no matter how much Babe scrubbed the tarnished shell in which she lived now, but she held her tongue and simply nodded.
The Wild in her Eyes Page 2
