“This enclosure isn’t making the next trip. Goldilocks and Francis already built another, so this one’s gotta go. But, I want some of the parts, so we’re going to be the ones to break it down.”
Annis frowned. “You can’t just tell Goldilocks and Francis which parts you want?”
“And let them have all the fun?” This time there was no mockery in her voice. Bess was completely serious.
“How do we do this, exactly?” Annis had never broken anything intentionally. This would be a new experience – one that felt all wrong.
“We use these,” Bess said, leaning forward to grab an axe and something that looked like an enormous hammer someone had apparently left there for them. “Which would you like? The blade or the crusher?”
They both sounded destructive and dangerous. “I’ll take the crusher. I don’t think either of us should trust me to swing around a large knife attached to a long stick.”
“Probably shouldn’t trust me to either,” Bess said, rolling her eyes sideways, and sticking her tongue out. “But that’s not going to stop me, is it?”
Annis saw no point in answering Bess’s question. Accepting her currently turbulent fate, unchangeable as it was at the moment, she reached for the crusher and waited for Bess to make her next move.
It turned out to be a heavy swing at the enclosure door, splitting it right in half.
“Ooh, that was fun!” she exclaimed, sounding slightly breathless. “Your turn, Annis. Have a go at that wall right there. Let’s crack this thing open so we can really get started.”
Annis swept her surroundings, hoping for a last chance of escape. When no opportunity to bolt arose, she turned her eyes back at the structure before her and took a tentative step toward it.
“Just...swing at it?”
“It’s wonderfully freeing, I tell you. You’ll love it.” Bess seemed to be beside herself with glee over this new activity.
“Alright,” Annis said with a sigh. “Here I go.”
Shaking from a new set of nerves that could easily contend with the ones she’d had climbing to the top of the tent, Annis raised her arms, squeezed her eyes shut, and swung blindly at the wall as per Bess’s request.
She was expecting the impact to be hard and to jar her body. Instead, she felt herself lunge forward with the weight and momentum of the hammer as it burst straight through the wood, never slowing, never stopping. When she caught herself, she looked up to find a giant hole in the wall, and the handle of her tool sticking out through it, her hand still holding the end of it. “Whoa,” she wheezed. She’d never hit anything in her life. She would have to rectify that mistake every chance she got from now on.
“Do we keep taking turns?” she asked, wondering how soon she could have another go at it.
“I think we both have the brains to know better than to swing at each other,” Bess said, pointing at the wall Annis had just smashed a hole though. “You stay to the right and I’ll work on the left. No meeting in the middle.”
“No meeting in the middle,” Annis agreed. Chances were good there would be no middle left to speak of anyway, once the sides were demolished.
For the next several minutes, both of them worked steadily, swinging, assessing the damage they’d inflicted, and swinging again. However, once they’d worked their way inside, Bess gave the cue to stop.
“Find something you prefer not to have crushed?” Annis asked, eyeing what was rapidly becoming her favorite new tool.
“Indeed, I did,” Bess said, her face lighting up as she stepped through the rubble and toward an array of ropes, all twined to various sizes and attached to the walls in a sort of maze for the previous inhabitants.
“Those aren’t nearly long enough for you to traipse across,” Annis pointed out.
“Then it’s a good thing that’s not what I want to do with them,” Bess replied with a cheeky smirk. Both women temporarily abandoned their tools of destruction and untangled the maze using only their hands for the job. They worked with an ironclad focus, efficiently taking down the ropes and coiling them up one at a time until all that was left were bare walls and ceiling.
The cycle of smashing and salvaging carried on for the next two hours until only a neat pile of rubble remained where there had once been a monkey enclosure. All of Bess’s newfound treasures had been safely placed in a large trunk August had delivered mid-demolition, ready for transport.
By the time they were walking out of the animal tent, they both wore glazed expressions, somewhere between delirious delight and exemplary exhaustion. Their clothes were covered in dust and dirt. Their pants especially had encountered a fair amount of rips and tears from catching and scraping on the materials they encountered during the demolition.
“Thanks for making me change my pants,” Annis said, trying to swat off a dark mark that wouldn’t budge. Not until she pressed down hard enough to touch her leg did she realize it was likely blood, and hers, since her skin was tender just below.
“Thanks for trusting me.” Bess winked. She laughed and wrapped her arm around Annis’s shoulders as they walked. “You know, I don’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun. Thanks for spending the day with me, Annis. I may enjoy being a one-woman act, but it does get lonely from time to time. It’s nice having someone along to share in the shenanigans, for a change.”
“You can consider me available anytime for those,” Annis told her as their hips bumped while they walked, their strides in perfect rhythm.
“Big words, Annis,” Bess said. “You sure you don’t want to reconsider?” she teased. “You might regret having offered.”
“Oh, I have no doubt there’ll be plenty of regret. But,” she paused as they maneuvered their way around a small group of workers on their way to Momma’s tent, “knowing you, it’ll be short-lived and superficial because you’ll make me tough it out even when things seem unbearable. Which means I’ll get to the good parts at the end, and then I’ll remember that sticking with you likely means having no regrets in life, ever. Because I’ll never have missed out on all the things that scare me most.”
“You know, Annis,” Bess said with surprising emotion, “I think that might be the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Be prepared to hear plenty of horrible things down the road to balance it out. In moments of terror and discomfort I can be an absolute beast, and we both know I’ll be experiencing both anytime I’m with you.”
“You weren’t so bad today,” Bess pointed out.
“Only because you couldn’t hear me from where you were, down below, while I thought I was stuck at the top of the tent, destined to die.”
“No,” Bess said, shaking her head, “I could.” She shrugged. “I’ve heard worse. From Sawyer, mostly.”
Annis found this entirely believable. “He does have a bit of a temper, doesn’t he?”
Bess nodded. “Especially where those ruddy elephants are concerned.”
“He really does seem to dislike them an awful lot,” Annis agreed.
“I think it’s size envy, to be honest,” Bess mused.
“Oh?” Annis acted surprised. “I was certain it was the tiaras he was jealous of.”
There was a brief second of complete silence, the tiniest of interludes in their chatter, and then they burst out laughing and giggled all the way back to Bess’s cabin, where they shed their wrecked wardrobes and changed back into more favorable attire. Unlike Annis, who put on the same clothes from before, Bess reemerged from the cabin in a fancy bit of white lace and sequins that fit her body like a second skin and that was accompanied by a light rose-colored tutu, much like the sort Annis had worn for ballet.
“That’s just lovely, Bess.”
“Thank you,” Bess said with a curtsy. “The girls and I all make our own costumes. Part of the fun of sharing the cabin. We all pool together our supplies and help each other with designs.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Annis wondered if perhaps one day she’d join
them.
As they walked, Annis’s thoughts drifted toward the future. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d allowed herself to daydream about what life had in store for her. But today, she let herself wonder. She knew that wherever the tracks led, the train would follow, and that she would be on it. She had no doubts about this. But, as her days and experiences went on, she began to see how different life could be, even among those who traveled the same tracks.
Perhaps it was silly to consider, but there was such joy in imagining the possibilities that Annis couldn’t resist. Where would the tracks lead her? What sort of act would become her life’s work? And where would she belong when she found it? Would she remain with the twins? They already felt like sisters to her. Or would she wind up with Bess and the others? Living free, first and foremost, and happy for the companionship of those she enjoyed, but not tied to anyone for longer than she pleased.
Or would the stars align with her deepest desires? Would she fall in love? Trust with her whole heart, and give it to Sequoyah? It was the dream she didn’t yet dare to believe in, and she jarred herself back into the present, where she found herself standing directly across from him.
“Hi,” he said, sounding pleased to see her.
“Hi,” she answered. She silently scolded herself for her timid tone. She’d built structures with her own two hands, climbed to the top of the tent, and destroyed an entire small building that day. Surely, she could muster a bit more gusto when she spoke.
“I don’t feel like I’ve seen you much today,” he said quietly, gently taking her hand in his as they walked into Momma’s tent together.
Annis’s eyes darted around. She searched for Bess, fearing her disapproval or, at the very least, her mockery, if she saw Sequoyah holding Annis’s hand. But Bess was already ahead of them, chatting with Momma and Babe.
“It’s been a very strange day,” she said, letting her palm sink into his as though she could anchor herself with him permanently. It was an inviting thought, and she pushed it from her mind as fast as she could. Inviting or not, ideas like those simply weren’t hers to entertain. Not yet, anyway.
“I sensed that when I happened to glance up and see you practically hanging on the flagstaff on top of the tent,” he said, his mouth taking on the same quirky grin it always seemed to wear whenever he was talking to her.
“You saw?” She hadn’t thought anyone would, though it seemed an odd assumption now. She and Bess had hardly been hidden, standing up on top of the world, perfectly visible to all of camp, and possibly all of the surrounding counties. “It was the most terrifying, most wonderful experience of my life,” she breathed. Even just thinking about it still took her breath away. “Bess is such a remarkable woman. I’ve never known anyone like her. She’s not afraid of anything and she’s teaching me so much,” Annis went on, the words bubbling out of her as her excitement grew.
Only as she felt her own exhilaration rise did she notice Sequoyah becoming more subdued until even the grin she adored so much began to fade.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, wondering how his mood had changed so rapidly. “If you’re worried we haven’t been safe, I swear I thought I might die only once and, as it turned out, I was scared for nothing.”
“It’s not that,” he assured her, leaning in ever so slightly, bringing them closer together. “It’s not anything really. I think it’s wonderful you’re having such a great time. It’s amazing to see you this way. It’s just...” his words trailed off as though he weren’t sure which ones to use.
“What? You can tell me. Whatever it is, you can say it,” she promised, anxious to find out what had him looking concerned so that she could find a way to ease his fears.
“It’s just... Bess’s specialty,” he said quietly, tilting his head to meet her eye-to-eye.
“What do you mean?” Annis didn’t understand.
He sighed, and then took a deep breath and held it in, squeezing his eyes shut until, at last, he said, or maybe asked, “She’s teaching you not to fall.”
Annis’s mouth opened to respond before she had an answer and she was forced to close it again, without uttering a word.
Patiently, he waited until what he’d said began to make sense to her.
He wasn’t asking about literal falling. He was asking about him. About them. About whether she was learning to see the brighter side of flying free and never risking the misstep that was possible when trusting others.
“She’s teaching me to fly,” Annis whispered. “And it’s the grandest feeling I’ve ever felt. But,” she paused, wanting to be sure she made no mistake in her phrasing, “I think I like it so much because I’m not afraid of falling. Not because I know it won’t happen, but because I already know where I’ll land when I do.”
Warmth pooled in his eyes and poured down on her, making Annis’s heart swell in her chest.
“Good,” he said. Annis suspected the way he kept nodding and swallowing had more to do with wanting to hold in his emotions than not having any words to let out.
“Yes, I think so too,” she agreed.
He cleared his throat, breaking his gaze away from hers as though he couldn’t bear to be locked in any longer. “I assume you’re famished from all this flying?”
“We destroyed the old monkey enclosure,” Annis added, her excitement returning again. “Did you see that too?”
He laughed. “So, yes to being famished.” He began to lead the way toward food, all the while paying careful attention not to miss any of Annis’s retelling of her newest adventures.
As she went on, talking faster and louder by the minute, it struck her how very wonderful it was to have someone to share her new stories with. Someone who truly listened and genuinely wanted to know them. And though the voice was quiet, it was strong enough to answer the question her wandering mind had conjured up only a short while ago. The stars would align, and when they did, her heart would be his. And even the ugliest parts of her past would be powerless to stop the beauty of it.
Chapter Fourteen
A FIRST TASTE OF SPOTLIGHT
Annis had three helpings at dinner that night. She only passed on the fourth because Finian was insisting he was hungrier than she was, and Mabel was refusing to feed him again on account of he’d peed on her lap the last time. She had been kind enough to fix his bottle for him, though. So, with her belly slowly settling, Annis found a quiet spot near the tracks on the other side of the train and fed Finian a proper dinner. Even after just a few hours apart, she’d missed him. He was becoming like an extension of her, always resting right atop her heart. She felt him move when he was awake or vibrate when he’d snore in his sleep, both of which had become comforts. Now, as she watched him wiggling about, growing bigger and stronger by the minute, she realized he wouldn’t always be content to stay in the sling. He’d want to run, to explore. And, someday, he’d hear the call of the wild. When the time came, Annis would have to learn to live with his answer.
“There you are, Tulip,” Babe said from behind her, the sound of relief clear in her voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She held her long, flowing gown hiked up in her hands as she made her way over the uneven ground of dirt, weeds, and overgrown tree roots, her beard twitching as she muttered under her breath. At last, Babe reached the large rock Annis had claimed as her seat and sat beside her. Annis smirked, noting the disgruntled huffing beside her.
“You realize, of course, I was never gone, yes?”
Babe’s nose scrunched and released, her nostrils flaring as though she felt genuinely entitled to be upset but could find no rational reason for it. “You felt gone,” she said, her voice still just as stern as her expression.
Annis sighed, and then smiled. She made sure to turn away, so Babe wouldn’t see. Most people didn’t enjoy seeing the party they were cross with looking so pleased by it. Sliding Finian down to the ground where he could move about more than he could in her lap, she glanced across from her, into the woods. They
grew ever darker as the sun continued her descent on the opposite horizon.
“I’m not the sort who’s prone to wander, Babe,” Annis said softly, sitting up straighter and taking Babe’s hand. “I’ve seen the beasts that go bump in the night and I don’t care for more encounters. Unless I’m keeping company with the sort who can ward off evil, I’m staying put, in camp. Where it’s safe.” Even as she said it, she did wonder if a beast of sorts was hidden there, buried inside Floyd.
Babe’s gaze peered back and forth along the tree line, the trees slowly but surely being swallowed by the shadows from within. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d still rather you stayed on the other side of the tracks. I know it’s silly, but humor me, would you?”
Annis nodded. “I can do that.” She leaned in until their shoulders touched. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
Babe’s arm reached across and pulled her in tighter. “It’s only because I’ve seen the beasts as well, Tulip,” she said sadly. Annis felt a pang in her heart because she knew Babe was referring to the beasts who came for Sequoyah. And, even before those, there were the ones who’d killed his family. There were more beasts lurking than any of them dared to imagine. Babe had good reason to want to keep everyone safe and within reach.
“No stray lions or bears tonight on your walk?” Annis asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
“If I’d found any, you’d be taking care of them right now. The only wild I encountered were the flowers. Fierce in their beauty, but harmless all the same,” Babe assured her. “How’s little Finian doing, then? He seems a completely different pup from the one I found two days ago.”
Annis bent down to scoop him up just as he was rolling over onto his back for what seemed like the hundredth time since they’d sat down.
The Wild in her Eyes Page 21
