Though she understood the implications of staring at a young man, a young native man, no less, Annis found it impossible to avert her eyes. Of all the displays of human talent around her, Annis found the subtle ways in which this man and his horses communicated the most impressive. A tap at one’s side, Annis noticed, meant move along. A stroke down another’s muzzle prompted the horse to follow him. Curiosity goaded her to approach the rider, to enter into the sacred circle he shared with those mustangs.
“Sequoyah,” Hugh called out, breaking Annis’s focus from the horses and their rider. She watched the handsome stranger straighten his stance and peek above the herd that still surrounded him. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” he said, a quiet laugh rumbling behind his words.
Hugh tried to hide a grin. “Just go tell her you’re back, would ya?”
Sequoyah nodded, still laughing. “Someone really ought to tell her I’m not eight anymore.”
“It would break her heart and you know it!” Hugh yelled after him. “Who is she going to fuss over when she realizes you’re not her little boy anymore?” Sequoyah didn’t respond but hurried from the tent in search of Babe.
Meanwhile, the work of setting up benches continued.
“I don’t know,” Francis muttered just loud enough to be heard, hoisting up a thick slab of wood and dropping it down onto several stumps to create more seating. “Babe’s got Annis now. I think someone could let it slip Sequoyah grew up a few years back. Even if she missed it.”
Will laughed. “She’d never accept it. Besides, I don’t think Annis is going to need her all that long. Bit of sleep, and some proper food, I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a completely different girl come morning.” He nodded at Francis to pick up the next slab and they bent down in unison. “Might be time to consider getting Babe a puppy, Hugh.”
“Right, so Basileus can eat it. Great idea, Will.”
Annis’s mouth folded into a smile, amused by Hugh’s candor. A puppy and a tiger likely weren’t the most ideal combination where pets were concerned.
Conscious of not drawing any unwanted attention, Annis quietly began to tiptoe her way back toward the opening of the tent when she took note of shuffling feet moving behind her. Her mind instantly alert, she scanned the area until she saw Floyd, the elderly man whose pale complexion reminded her of powdered sugar and whose pink eyes made it hard to look away even as they bore into her.
She felt suddenly desperate for an escape. He’s harmless, she reminded herself. Whatever his appearance might have suggested to her, he had done nothing to deserve her fear or judgement and she did her best to hide every trace of her discomfort as he approached.
Mustering a smile, she watched as he came to a standstill before her. He wore a strange expression. His eyes, though locked on her, were staring straight through her, as though he could see things others couldn’t. The oddest part was, Annis thought, the way his mouth barely moved while he muttered under his breath, as though speaking in tongues. Without saying an audible word to Annis directly, he took her hand and turned her palm upright. He then stroked it gently with the rough tips of his fingers and placed a small, black stone at the center of it. He folded her fingers around it as his pink eyes turned red. Annis felt his gaze become present.
“For protection,” he wheezed, struggling for his voice, “so he can’t find you.”
His attention drifted as quickly as it had come, and his feet resumed their shuffle away from Annis, who stood frozen by fear. “How had he known?” she wondered to herself. “He couldn’t have. It simply isn’t possible.”
She opened her hand to peer down at the stone he’d given her. Part of her wanted to throw it as far and as hard as she could. The other part wanted to believe it could offer her what he’d promised. Protection. She shook her head, letting her hand fall at her side. Her fingers uncurled until the small stone rolled from her grasp and into the dirt at her feet. It wasn’t real. The old man was grasping at straws, speculating about her past, probably like all the others were. Annis closed her eyes and forced her thoughts to believe the words she was feeding them. She was safe. No one knew. And the old man was just that, an old man, and likely a senile one, at that.
Annis gave up all efforts of being quiet as she hurried out of the tent, desperate for fresh air and the freedom of open sky overhead. Her heart raced in her chest as dirt and gravel crunched under the soles of her new boots. Even once outside, she found it hard to breathe. Still, she kept moving aimlessly through camp, yearning for distance from the encounter with Floyd.
“Whoa, there! Slow down, girl. You almost missed my tent,” Momma T said as she walked straight toward Annis, bringing her to an abrupt halt. She wiped her hands clean on her apron and said, “Cornbread is golden brown and piping hot. Fresh churned butter will melt the second the two touch. It’ll never taste any better than it does right now.” When Annis didn’t react, Momma T waved her closer, taking a few more steps in her direction.
“Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, frowning. “Now, I don’t know what it is that’s got you spooked but I can guarantee you, there ain’t nothin’ in camp to be scared of. And everythin’ outside of camp is too scared to come in and find out.” She smirked.
Annis couldn’t help but grin back at her. She knew Momma T was right. She’d heard the harsh words people used to describe those who traveled with the circus. Coldhearted misfits touched in the head. The sort who’d toss you off the train just as soon as they’d throw you in a lion pen. Now she regretted ever believing a single one of them because Annis was sure these people had just kept her from dying in the wilderness, even though she was a complete stranger to them.
“It’s just...I don’t think I can be who people think I am,” Annis said.
Momma T crossed her arms, her brow furrowed in concern. “And who do you think people believe you to be?”
“Someone who can be saved,” she whispered, hardly able to bear the words.
Momma T nodded slowly, her stern mouth growing tender on her rigid face as she stepped in closer. She draped one arm around Annis’s shoulders, her hand curling in around Annis’s neck as she tucked her head down to touch their foreheads together. “I’m gonna tell you a secret. We’re all beyond saving. But we still found our salvation the second we set foot inside this circus and saw our broken, battered souls mirrored back to us in every face already inside. Here, the rest of the world doesn’t get to decide who you are or what you should be. The tarnished, the shunned, can rise to reach the spotlight and do so to roaring applause. The very people who would not approve of you, who foolishly believe they can break you, wind up in awe of you. That’s the power of the circus. That’s the freedom you find when you no longer allow yourself to be demeaned or attacked by the small-minded standards of an easily frightened society. Being saved, being worthy of saving, no longer looks the same.” Her dark brown eyes rested on Annis’s for a long time. “It’s not us who’s wrong. It’s you. You’ll see.”
Then Momma T released Annis from her steady grip and gave her a nudge with one bony elbow and added, “Come on, cornbread won’t stay warm forever and I have to get another batch going before showtime.” Annis’s stomach growled as if on cue. She clutched her belly and turned red with embarrassment.
“Hunger ain’t nothing to feel shame for,” Momma T said sternly, gesturing for her to hurry up. “Turning down perfectly good food? Now that’s another story.” Annis didn’t argue and fell into step beside Momma T as they made their way into the large emerald colored tent that served as a dining hall. Beyond the massive green tarp was a makeshift kitchen, complete with serving station. Annis could hardly believe her eyes as she took it all in.
“It smells divine,” Annis said, inhaling deeply through her nose and sighing to exhale. She couldn’t remember the last real food she’d eaten. You don’t tend to savor things you don’t know are the last you’ll have, she thought, and you don’t tend to know they’re the last you’ll have until
it’s too late.
“It better smell heavenly,” Momma T said, “because I must have said about a hundred ‘Oh, Lord Jesuses’ when I damn near burned my hand off making it.”
Annis’s eyes widened and a chuckle rose in her throat. She wondered if she’d ever get used to hearing the things that came out of Momma T’s mouth. She hoped not.
After a few spins around her makeshift kitchen, Momma T handed Annis a meal large enough to feed ten people and sent her to the nearest table in the attached dining area to begin her feast.
The space wasn’t big, but it was well utilized, with banquet style tables and benches lined up in neat rows. Annis counted four in all. She passed the first table, dragging her fingertips over the surface. The wood was worn smooth. Patches of emerald paint still clung to the panels in the places Annis imagined the table saw less wear, down the center mostly, tiny remnants suggesting the tables once matched the tent. The benches were built in a similar fashion, mostly thick slabs of wood lined up and bolted down onto thick, solid legs. But where the tables held small sentiments of green, the benches had once been painted white.
Annis walked until she found herself at the center of an otherwise empty dining hall and took her seat. “Dig in,” Momma T called out, her back already turned as she headed out to the fire with a fresh batch of cornbread ready to bake. “There’s plenty more for seconds.”
“Thank you,” Annis said, still taking in the feast plated before her. Her mouth watered. She felt overwhelmed by the choice of what to eat first.
“I’d start with the cornbread.” Annis glanced up at the sound of another voice, one she recognized.
“Hi, Sawyer.” She smiled, pleased to have remembered his name.
He nodded, climbing up onto the bench across from her. “Take a big chunk and swipe it straight through the beans. You’ll never taste anything better.”
“If you knew what I’ve been eating recently, you’d know anything would taste better,” she said, but still took his advice. She wasn’t sorry she did. The cornbread was perfectly crisp on the outside but soft to the touch. Annis gripped the small piece with both hands and pulled it apart, a fresh burst of steam erupting from the wonderfully fluffy inside. Even before she tasted it, she could smell the sweet scent of honey and corn. Dutifully following Sawyer’s orders, she took the smaller of two halves and slid it straight through the beans, watching it soak in all the gravy before carefully guiding the cornbread back to her mouth. Sweet and savory flavor erupted in waves of comfort inside her mouth and slowly spread to her entire being. It was absolutely divine.
Sauce dripped down her chin as she took another bite, and then another, before she could muster humming a sound of contentment.
Sawyer grinned. “Told ya.”
“What, you think this is a full-service establishment now?” Momma T said, placing another meal on the table for Sawyer.
“If you’re willing to make it one,” he teased, going straight for his own square of cornbread. “Thank you, Momma.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled under her breath, already on to buttering another pan for her next batch of cornbread.
Sawyer leaned in closer so that only Annis could hear and whispered, “Don’t let her fool ya. She serves everyone that sets foot in here. Trying to help yourself to something from her kitchen will get you chased outta here with a wooden spoon.” Then he looked up, over Annis’s shoulder. “Just ask Sequoyah. He knows all about that,” Sawyer said, and then laughed.
“What’s that?” Sequoyah asked, walking toward their table. Annis had been oblivious that he had entered, but she could now feel him move in closer beside her with an overwhelming sense of awareness. She couldn’t bring herself to look, worried she’d again be unable to turn her gaze away from him.
“Momma and her spoon,” Sawyer answered him, chuckling as he picked up his fork and tucked into his meal with more fervor than one would expect from someone not much bigger than the pile of food on his plate. Sequoyah laughed. It was a smooth, deep sound, hearty and unencumbered. The sound was so genuine, so strangely familiar, and yet so thrillingly new that it made Annis’s stomach flip with excitement.
“I never was good at following rules,” he admitted. “That spoon has left a mark across the back of my hand more than once.” He lowered himself onto the seat beside Annis and she felt her chest tighten. Then he turned toward her, his hand outstretched. Even out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smiling at her. It was enough to flush her skin hot pink. “You must be Annis,” he said, clearly oblivious to her current condition. She could feel the sweat pooling in her palms.
“Hi,” she said at last, moving her head in his direction ever so slightly and running her hand up and down her thigh to dry it on the cotton of her trousers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her gaze inched upward until her eyes met with his as her palm landed in his waiting grip. She felt his fingers wrap around her hand, sending a warm tingle down her arm and into the pit of her stomach, filling it so that she forgot about her hunger.
Mesmerized by the sheer beauty of his face and the endless kindness spilling from his dark eyes down onto her, she stared at him. His own gaze never wavered from hers until Sawyer cleared his throat, erasing the magic of their unspoken moment. But it had been magic. Annis was as certain of that as she was of the truth that she understood the instant they had averted their eyes. She and Sequoyah could never do more than share the magic of that moment. It could never be more than that. More would only lead to a target on his back. And no one else would die on her account.
Chapter Four
FLOYD
“Babe know you’re back yet?” Momma asked, walking over with another plate of food in her hands. “You’re lucky she had Annis here to look after or she’d have had time to put together another search party to go out after you again.”
Sequoyah took the meal and nodded graciously. “Poppy already got on me for worrying her.” Annis watched as he broke what she had already accepted as circus tradition by skipping the cornbread and going straight for the greens. “It’s not like I wanted to be out there chasing down horses before the sun cracked the horizon. And if it hadn’t been for those men shooting off their rifles in the black of night, I wouldn’t have been either.”
Annis felt her blood run cold. Her feet and ankles turned to lead and her knees to jelly while every instinct screamed for her to run. She’d never felt more betrayed by her own body.
“What men with rifles?” she asked, unable to hide the fear in her voice as she watched Momma T saunter off, envious of her ability to simply move as she pleased.
Sawyer, much like Momma, hardly seemed bothered by the news of gunmen. “Oh, who knows? But they turn up every few stops we make. Some uptight bully and his bully friends who get together and try to scare the freaks out of town before we get too settled in.” He laughed harshly. “As if we’d ever want to stay. Never seen a place yet I’d give up the train tracks for.”
The thumping of her heart slipped slowly out of her throat and back down into her chest, where it gradually began to calm itself back into its regular rhythm. “That’s it? They’re just random? And they just make a lot of noise to try to scare you? They never do anything?”
Sequoyah placed his fork back on the table beside his plate and turned toward her. Annis was unsure whether she appreciated having his undivided attention, or whether it was appropriate for him to have hers. Nevertheless, he most certainly did.
“They’ve tried in the past,” he admitted, a sadness swelling in his eyes. His most beautiful eyes, Annis thought. “But we’re always stronger than they expect, and now far more prepared. There’s no sneaking up on us. We’ve taken great measures to keep everyone here safe, Annis. I promise.” She liked the way he said it. Annis. Before she could revel in her enjoyment for too long, the somber line of his mouth gave way to a curl at the corner and he smirked. “Also, we have Homer. Something about a man tossing large knives about and catching them, occasionall
y with his mouth, tends to frighten even the most arrogant of men.”
“Throwing around those fireballs he’s got usually does it too,” Sawyer added, grinning from ear to ear. There was something endearing about Sawyer, though Annis had to keep considering whether she was letting his short stature influence her opinions of him. Maybe there was some part of her that thought him adorable simply for being small. She dreaded to think it was possible, and so every so often when he spoke, she imagined a man she once knew. She pictured the grumpiest, most mature-looking man she’d ever met who worked at the butcher shop her mother had frequented all throughout Annis’s childhood. After this experiment, she realized with great relief it was simply Sawyer’s uncanny way of telling things as he saw them and the ever-present echo of snark in his voice that she was becoming genuinely fond of.
“What about you?” Sawyer asked, catching Annis off guard. No one had prompted any direct questions of her since she’d been there, aside from her name and age, and even those had come with a certain expectation that she would be less than truthful in answering. Sawyer Smalls, however, did not strike her as the sort to simply accept vagueness in response to his curiosities.
“What do you mean?” she asked, picking at a medley of vegetables on her plate, some of which she wasn’t sure she recognized. She was certain he’d notice she was stalling but she had no choice. She couldn’t dare give up more information than absolutely necessary. Moving forward, she was determined to stray as little from the truth as possible, but it wouldn’t be easy to toe the line between honesty and lies when there was so little truth to tell and so much to keep secret.
“What do I mean?” he asked, sounding incredulous. “I mean, Homer juggles flames in his hands. Sequoyah comes galloping into the ring on a herd of horses, war cry and all. And me? Well, I think it’s pretty clear where my entertainment value lies.” He pointed the prongs of her fork at her. “So, what about you? I know you look pretty damn normal on the outside, but you can’t be entirely ordinary to wind up here. You’ve gotta have something that makes you stand out. Some sort of talent. Something you plan to contribute. What is it?” Despite the badgering nature of his questions, Annis felt it hard to hold them against him when they were delivered with such sincere interest.
The Wild in her Eyes Page 4
