Joanne Bischof

by The Lady

  She let out a little laugh. “Have you always done this?”

  “Long as I can remember.”

  The lion rolled away from Charlie and stretched before lounging back against his lap. Enormous fanged teeth began to gnaw and tug at the edge of his shirt again, and Charlie pushed the lion’s face away. Undeterred, the lion tried once more.

  “I never would have known.” Ella shook her head in disbelief. “I would have envisioned a trainer with one of those things.” She made a whipping motion and Charlie winced.

  “Yeah. Those folks are certainly out there. And most just use them for the sound. But…” he shook his head. “My father, he had a theory. That there was a better way. No sticks, whips, or barbs of any kind. Instead of making them submit, to treat them in a way that they want to listen. That the circus life can be enjoyable for them. Which means—” with a smile in his eyes, he nodded toward the lounging lion— “that this is the most important part of my day. The performance is nothing compared to this. This…” Charlie ran his hand through the thick mane, scrubbing hard at the dense, amber fur, “shows them that I am one of them. That I have been from the start. And that I’m going to take care of them. They don’t have to fear, which makes my job so much easier.” His mouth tipped up.

  “And you’re not afraid to be on the ground like that with them?”

  “I try to stay low when they are,” Charlie said. “It keeps them from feeling threatened by me. I’m not here to hurt them.”

  The lion lifted a wide paw and licked the underside a few slow times, his large, pale eyes on Ella again.

  “They’ve learned over the years that I won’t leave them. They trust me.” Charlie slapped the soft-looking hide of the great, rounded belly with a few friendly pats. “They’re like my brothers.” With his head, he motioned down to where the lion had wrapped its massive paws around Charlie’s leg. “As you can see, they’re quite attached.”

  “Unbelievable,” she breathed.

  “To them, I’m not their trainer. I don’t even think they know that I’m a man sometimes. Oh, and you should see Axel with Holland.” Charlie went to stand. “I’ll show you.”

  Ella wrapped her arms around the baby. “Don’t you dare.”

  He chuckled and settled back into the dirt. “Just you wait and see.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  He laughed deeper. Startled to alertness, the lion looked up and pressed his huge black nose into the air against Charlie’s chest.

  “Jealous, my boy?” Charlie buried the side of his head into the wiry mane and stroked a hand up the thick neck.

  “Now I know why your hair always looks that way,” Ella said.

  His brows fell—face serious. “Does it look…funny?”

  She took in the sight of his ever-wild hair. The way it always stood on end. Untamed. “You didn’t know that?” Ella couldn’t fight the smile.

  He ran a hand forward through the brown locks. “Always?” But as he stood, a sparkle in his eyes told her that he knew as much. “I should get these boys settled before they fall asleep.”

  Charlie nodded to his partner who whistled toward the back of the tent.

  Several workers lumbered in, one calling direction to a massive elephant who wore a thick-strapped harness across both back and chest.

  Ella gaped.

  Holland flapped her hands.

  “She’s more in love with the bull man than me,” Charlie quipped as he unfastened a trap door in the fencing while the man leading the elephant rounded his charge to a halt in front of the wagon. The solid, dusty feet moved back two steps, and then the man pulled something from his pocket. The tip of a wrinkled, gray trunk dabbed at his palm, and with a flap of giant ears, the elephant ate its reward. Finished, the animal dipped its trunk then lifted it up in a salute. Holland babbled as the bull man reached up to fasten hitch to harness, and it was all Ella could do to hold the squirming baby who was bent on joining them.

  “Don’t wear yourself out, little one,” Charlie cautioned.

  Holland cooed and blew bubbles. The elephant trumpeted in return.

  After setting a ramp into place, he hefted up a bucket and tossed small chunks of what was surely meat into the wagon. Then he let out a soft whistle and his cats all lifted their heads. “Kristov, up! Axel up!”

  In turn, each maned lion lumbered up the ramp, tails swaying lazily behind them. The third vanished into the cage wagon, and it was all Ella could do not to faint when Charlie climbed in as well and shut the door.

  “I’ll be right back,” he called to her.

  The lions flopped down in a rustle and immediately set about rubbing faces and licking manes while Charlie dispersed bright straw that one of the circus hands carried to him. The elephant pulled the giant wagon from the arena and out through a slit in the striped tent.

  When Holland started to fuss, Ella whispered that Charlie would be back.

  And within a few minutes, he was. He strode across the dusty ring, brushing straw from his pants. Grinning at the pair of them, he gripped Holland under her arms and lifted her to his chest.

  Charlie kissed a round, pudgy cheek before thanking Ella for the help. “I have to go get ready for the performance now. Would you like to come for the show? I’ll save you one of the best seats in the house and even give you your money back if the trainer gets eaten.”

  A smile bubbled up. “Who could refuse such an offer?”

  He wet his lips. “It will be Holland’s nap time, and instead of eating at the cookhouse this evening, I thought I’d—well…if you’d like…” He scratched the back of his head shyly. “Regina said she’d help me make you supper. If you’d like. It wouldn’t be much and you could certainly say no, but I sure would like to repay you for last night.”

  Ella looked up into pale eyes that watched her with hope. “I’d like that. Very much.”

  When he grinned, a light in his expression took that hope and did something funny to her heart. They walked out into the sunlight where the rich, buttery scent of popcorn was thick in the air. He shoved his fist into his pocket only to pull it right back out which sent several things spilling to the ground. He bumped against her, his arm brushing her skirt, as he quickly knelt and plucked up a scrap of paper and a penny.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Honestly? I have no idea.” Chuckling, he tossed the scrap in the waste bin. He flipped the penny and caught it before sliding it back out of sight. Then he sobered quickly. “It didn’t seem like I was trying to hold your hand, did it?”

  Despite herself, she laughed.

  Then he halted in his tracks and she heard his quick intake of breath.

  Ella stopped too and Charlie glanced at her with a hint of regret. Perhaps wishing she’d kept walking because a wisp of a woman had stopped in front of them with a fiery, potent stare. Her ebony hair was pulled into a severe bun. Wrinkled mouth pursed taut, small eyes snapping as she shifted her glare over to Charlie. With a flick of his wrist, Charlie doffed an imaginary hat.

  The woman rolled her eyes. A heavy perfume scent surrounded her and a large man stood a few feet away, meaty hands clasped in front of him.

  “I’d like to talk to you.” Her voice was thick with a foreign accent.

  Charlie made a show of snapping his fingers. “I’d love to.” His voice dripped with mock-enthusiasm. “But I have a show.”

  The woman handed Charlie an envelope. He took and folded it, then tucked the envelope in his shirt pocket. Ella realized the scent wasn’t perfume. She remembered it from a patient she’d assisted in the men’s ward last fall. It was opium.

  “Perhaps you can make time. Later. Unless you’re simply too busy.” The slip of a woman glanced at Ella again. Her dark gaze fell on Holland.

  Charlie shifted the baby against his waist. The woman’s eyes tightened and then she tugged an ornate watch from her bodice. She checked the time, looked sharply at Ella once more, then walked on. Charlie stared straight ahead as she
left. Ella glanced back and watched the woman weave through the masses. The large man followed her.

  With a tip of his head, Charlie motioned for Ella to walk with him.

  “Who was that?” she whispered.

  “Just an old friend.” He gave her a half smile. She twisted her mouth to the side, and as if knowing she wasn’t buying that, he moved closer. Free hand in his pocket, he spoke while looking at the path. “Have you ever worked for someone you really didn’t like?”

  She felt guilty to confess, but he spoke before she could.

  “Kind of like that good doctor of yours.”

  Ella wrinkled her nose.

  “Exactly.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Just like that.” He gave her a lopsided grin, but his eyes were shadowed and she sensed it was worse. “And let’s just say that now we don’t have to worry about you being seen anymore.”

  C H A P T E R 1 0

  __________

  Seated in the front row, Ella gripped the edge of the bench tighter. The air in the vast, striped tent was heavy and thick with the tantalizing aroma of concession treats, the springtime scent of earth, and the rich, humble smells of animals. From the center of the Big Top, the ringmaster announced the first act as cheers and whispers drew to silence. The ring emptied, draining of the clowns and jugglers who had entertained the crowd while seats filled. An overture, Ella realized, because with Charlie’s massive cage still assembled front and center, it took no guessing as to what would come first. A thrill pulsed through her.

  The Big Top fell hushed as several men dressed in workman’s clothing inspected the tall, wire fencing. A herald of the danger to come. Even so, a trio of aerialists dressed in tights, corsets, and little ruffled bloomers slipped through the opening in the cage, jogging into the center of the ring. Their white button-up shoes made nary a sound as brazen whistles shot out. Ella recognized Ruth, the bold redhead from the other day.

  Reaching for the three strips of cloth that suddenly unfurled from the overhead rigging, they quick-wrapped their wrists and ankles and climbed in synchronization. With bated breath, Ella watched the women wind the striped fabrics as they rose. Reaching the high rigging, they pulled up the remaining silk, hammocked themselves into sitting positions, then pressed fingers to their painted lips with a collective, playful, “Shhhh…” Amusement filtered through the stands.

  Finished, the workers slipped out the open gate, leaving the three women to sway overhead like a trio of doves in an ornate cage.

  Just then a child in the row behind Ella cried out. “Look, Mama!”

  Charlie, dressed in his center ring finery, strode into the arena, as tall and dashing as ever. Face powdered and painted with two jagged teardrops under his eyes, he walked with stoic authority, tall boots forging a fresh trail straight toward his audience. Ella didn’t know a single man could hush a packed house with no words, but…then there was Charlie Lionheart. The side of her mouth pursed in a smile. Behind him, a dozen more workers bustled in, burdened by three massive crates, which they gently placed inside the fenced area before exiting. The gate creaked closed and a latch was pressed into place. All alone, save the three pretty faces above, Charlie used a brass-topped cane to softly tap each box. Appeared to check that they were locked. Murmurs filtered through the stands.

  Anticipation bright in the air, Ella nibbled the end of her thumb.

  Charlie rattled one of the locks. Eyed the keyhole. He patted down his coat. One gloved hand slid into his pocket, then the other. A few chuckles spilled around. Ella’s smile deepened. Outside of the fencing, Charlie’s partner edged closer to the gate and rested a hand on the latch in silent question. Charlie gave a theatrical shrug, and turning away from the audience, strode the way he’d come, through the gate, latching it behind him. Curious murmurs rose.

  Then he stopped abruptly and snapped his fingers. Charlie headed toward the seated spectators. He started on the far left of the front row and began a search—poking in the reticules of giggling ladies and even made one man empty his pockets. Chuckles spread and Ella could feel it. The audience…

  In the palm of his hand.

  And here she was sitting among them. Because he’d asked her to. Vulnerability and innocence in his face as they’d stood in the sun. The sheer recollection of it warmed her cheeks. What on earth was she doing? Spending her days at the circus—with a lion tamer. One who was but feet away in his emerald coat, top hat perfectly askew, an amused curve to his mouth. So fetching that she was feeling very nervous as he drew near.

  He shuffled his hand along the edges of dress hems that brushed the stands and to a snickering child, lifted his small shoe in search of the key. To Ella’s relief, he strode right by. A few steps later, he slammed to a halt. Then turned. And pointed to her. Ella’s heart shot up.

  Pacing back, he folded his arms and frowned, eyebrow raised. He held out his gloved palm.

  When she simply sat there wide eyed, he tapped his foot impatiently.

  Baffled, Ella patted her bodice, then peeked under the seat. Arms still folded, Charlie made a show of growing impatient. The crowd laughed. His green eyes twinkled at her. Fearing her face was as pink as it felt, Ella reached into her dress pocket and there it was, the cold press of metal. Recalling the way he’d brushed against her, she pulled the key out and handed it to him. Charlie took it, and grinning, dipped her a bow. Then he straightened and flashed the key high. Laughter turned to applause and Charlie winked at Ella before hurrying back.

  He was going to pay for that.

  Charlie strode to the nearest crate, unlocked it, then repeated the motion with the other two. Just as he stepped away from the last box, guttural bellows broke the silence. The audience gasped. Charlie slid each lock free with dramatic flair. Hesitated. Then flung down the doors. With easy movements, he climbed onto the center box and walked to the front edge, his polished boots tall and thundering.

  Utter astonishment filled the Big Top as the lions ambled out, tails swishing, jaws flexing in yawns. Ignoring the rows upon rows of spectators, the lions pawed at one another. Charlie let them romp for several minutes as oohs and aahs swelled. He’d told her earlier that each of his cats topped out at over five hundred pounds. Every ounce of that weight and strength was circling in front of him now.

  Just then one of the aerialists lowered an ornate banner that read in bold-faced lettering, Rules of Lion Taming. A hush fell and Ruth unfurled a second banner—Starring A Very Naughty Lion Tamer. The hush bloomed to snickers and Ella smiled as Charlie still appeared oblivious. He gripped the edge of the crate and hopped down into the dirt. A crouch absorbing the shock, he rose slowly.

  A little voice spoke from nearby. “Is he gonna get eaten, Papa?”

  “I don’t…think so,” came the father’s wary response.

  The largest of the cats lifted his head and looked at Charlie. What had Charlie called him? Axel.

  Another banner inched down. Rule Number 1: Never Turn Your Back On A Lion.

  With a cheery whistle, Charlie set about easing crate doors closed. Hinging locks into place, his back to all three lions whose gazes were trained on him. Then they began to follow. Muscles edged their legs, massive paws beating quiet prints into the dusty earth. Murmurs rose as they drew closer, circling Charlie. The thickest one licked his chops. As though just sensing their presence, Charlie stopped his work. The woman beside Ella covered her mouth with her hands.

  Still nestled in her knotted silk, Ruth lowered another sign. Rule Number 2: Always Carry A Big Stick.

  And with his back still to the trio of great cats, Charlie patted his pockets, flexed empty hands…

  The crowd drew in a collective breath. Standing discreetly beside the gate, his partner smirked. The lions closed around Charlie, and though Ella had seen him with them earlier, the nervous energy penetrated.

  Charlie pulled something from a crate—an oversized book by the looks of it. He held it in front of his face and flipped forward a few pages, then turned, book pois
ed, title in grand gold lettering. Lion Training for Beginners.

  The crowd laughed.

  At Charlie’s feet, the largest lion lay down and another strode off. Near Charlie, the third lion sank down. Nose still in the book, Charlie sidestepped and sat between them. He lounged against one and propped his boots lazily on the back of the other. Licking the tip of his finger, Charlie turned a page. Snickers tiptoed through the audience. The third lion ambled back, the strap of a canteen in his jaws. Without looking at the animal, Charlie took and uncapped the canteen, then swigged. Still seeming engrossed in his book, he turned another page then looked slowly over at the audience. As if just remembering the hundreds of pairs of eyes on him, he snapped to attention and rose.

  He tugged at his coat, chin high, appearing very official and then flipped furiously through a few more pages before tossing the book aside. He scratched his head, then with a raised finger, seemed to have a new idea. He spoke to the lions and motioned them into position. They obeyed, standing in a line of muscle and manes. He gave each of them a gentle touch on the nose and signaled by a dip of his retrieved cane. A low guttural sound rose from the center lion, followed by the others, and within a moment, they roared. A blood-thinning sound. Muzzles scrunched, sharp teeth on display, their stomachs clenched. The rumbling aftermath shattered over the applause and fevered awe that filled the tent.

  Ella could only shake her head in disbelief.

  Charlie stepped around them, held up his hands to settle them, and they slowly sat back down. Then he raised his cane like the baton of a band leader and seemed about to do something when another banner eased down from above.

  Rule Number 3: Watch Out For Aerialists.

  Folks snickered.

  Grinning, Ella leaned forward and rested her cheeks in her hands.

  Just then, one of the dangling women tossed an object down with a thunk. Ella realized it was a leather ball as it rolled and stole the lions’ attention. All three of them lunged after it. Seemingly confused, Charlie turned and strode after them. To Ella’s astonishment and the crowd’s delight, he wrestled the ball free, taking a good knock in the chest by the feistiest lion. Charlie looked unfazed, and by the time he had the great cats arranged in a row again, one of the women slid down her silken cloth and must have dropped something worth nibbling on before climbing back up, because a lion bounded over and gobbled it up.