by Ronald Kelly
Standing in the center of the clearing was an old cabin wagon like traveling peddlers drove in those old western movies. It was undoubtedly ancient, but it was hard to really tell. The sides were painted in brilliant shades of red, yellow, and blue, and majestic letters spelled out a single inscription. DOCTOR AUGUSTUS LEECH’S TRAVELING MEDICINE SHOW – MAGIC, MUSIC, & MUSE – FEATURING THE GOOD DOCTOR’S PATENTED CURE-ALL ELIXIR.
The presence of the wagon surprised them, but the one sitting near the rear of it was an even bigger shock. He sat before a campfire, picking an old five-string banjo whose neck had been repaired with silver duct tape; a tall, slender man dressed in faded jeans, a Grateful Dead t-shirt, a long black coat, and a high stovepipe hat. He had long black hair, a scraggly mustache and a pointed goatee beard, and his complexion was pale and waxy, as if he were feeling poorly. Dark shadows highlighted his sunken cheeks and the sockets around his eyes.
As they stood there staring at him with their jaws unhinged, Keith tried to identify the tune the man was playing. It wasn’t bluegrass and it wasn’t one of the old standards like “Camptown Races” or “Buffalo Girls”. No, it had a definite edge to it – a frantic, dangerous edge – that the boy couldn’t quite identify. It was familiar, though. Keith knew he had heard it somewhere before.
Abruptly, the man stopped playing and looked up. His eyes widened with sudden delight and a big grin split his lean face. It reminded Keith of an illustration he once saw in a children’s book. The wolf smiling at Red Riding Hood, dressed in the gown and cap of her devoured grandmother.
“Well, now!” he said. “Company’s come to call!”
The four simply stood there, staring at him. Of all the things they had expected to find in the wilderness of Hell Hollow, the man in the top hat and tails was the last thing on their list.
“Howdy,” said Rusty warily.
“Hi,” echoed Maggie, standing slightly behind the others.
“There’s no need to be frightened of me,” he said, setting down his banjo and standing up. “I’m as harmless as a ladybug. Please, sit down and visit for a while.”
When they made no move to do so, he laughed. “Come on now. I’m just a traveling salesman and showman. I know I look kind of scraggly and suspicious, but I assure you, I’m no child molester or serial killer. You have my word of honor.”
There was a way in his expression and speech that seemed to put Rusty, Chuck, and Maggie at ease. But Keith wasn’t so sure about the stranger. This is all wrong, he thought to himself. He shouldn’t be down here.
“Well, okay,” said Rusty. “Besides, much more of toting this lard-ass around and my arm is gonna pop clean out of its socket.”
“Hey!” protested Chuck with a frown.
“He’s right, dude,” admitted Keith as they lowered Chuck to the ground. “I’ve got to put you down, too. No offense.”
Gently, they helped Chuck over to the log of a deadfall and sat him down. The other three sat around him, quiet, both unsettled and intrigued by the man who camped in the center of Hell Hollow.
The fellow smiled at them, then squatted next to the fire. A foot above the crackling flames hung the skinned body of a jackrabbit on a spit. He seasoned it with salt and pepper, then turned it a little to cook the other side.
“What are you doing out here?” Rusty finally asked. “Are you some kinda hippie or something?”
The tall man laughed uproariously, as though Rusty’s question was the funniest thing he had ever heard in his life. “No,” he answered. “No, my good man, I’m just a weary traveler, as I said before. I strayed from the main road and wound up stuck down here in this hollow. I let my horses loose for a stretch of the legs and, when I awoke early this morning, they were gone. Just ran off and left me. The ungrateful beasts!”
Chuck looked puzzled. “But what are you doing driving this old wagon around? The only people who drive wagons around these parts are the Mennonites who live out near Bugscuffle.”
The man laughed again. “Believe me, I am not of their religious sect.” He stood up from his place beside the fire and, taking the tall hat from his head, bowed elegantly. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Leech. Doctor Augustus Leech.”
“A real doctor?” asked Maggie.
“Well, that is a matter of opinion to some,” he admitted. “Mostly that’s just a theatrical title. I travel the country in this wagon, selling my medicinal wares and entertaining those who will but grant me a moment of their precious time. Dramatically, I’m a jack-of-all-trades. I am an accomplished magician, ventriloquist, juggler, musician, comedian, and thespian. I prefer to present my performances the old-fashioned way, journeying from town to town in this wagon I have restored. Sounds sort of nuts, huh?”
The four nodded.
“Purely eccentric, I assure you,” he said.
“How come we’ve never heard of you before?” asked Rusty.
“Oh, I’m no stranger to these parts,” Leech told them. “I’ve visited your quaint town of Harmony before.” His dark eyes sparkled. “A very long time ago.”
Keith studied the man and his brightly-painted wagon. He felt as if reality had unexpectedly taken a hike on them. As if they had all stepped smack dab into the middle of the Twilight Zone.
The man suddenly looked down at the rabbit roasting over the fire. “Where are my manners? I was just sitting down to lunch. Will you join me?”
“Yuck!” said Maggie with a scowl of disgust. “Poor little bunny!”
Augustus Leech seemed to see his catch in a brand new light. “Oh, how terribly insensitive of me!” He reached down and, taking the spit from the fire, withdrew the wooden rod that impaled the steaming body of the rabbit. Reverently, he laid its carcass on the ground at their feet. “Poor creature! His existence was once full of happiness and freedom, and here I come along and, out of blatant hunger, have callously deprived him of his simple life. Well, what has been taken away can be restored once again.”
The kids watched as Leech took a large red handkerchief from the breast pocket of his coat and, unfolding it, laid it gently over the cooked animal, covering it completely.
“Jesus once raised Lazarus from the dead,” said Leech with a strange grin. “I’m not quite in His league, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Maggie, mesmerized.
“Watch!” the man instructed.
He swept his pale, long-fingered hands over the lump beneath the crimson hanky. At first, nothing happened. Then the cloth began to twitch. Leech took the edge of the handkerchief between thumb and forefinger, and, with a dramatic flourish, whipped it away.
Maggie gasped. “Look!”
Where the half-roasted body of a skinned hare once lay, there now crouched the frightened form of a brown jackrabbit. The animal trembled on a bed of soft clover, its eyes bright with fear. The scent of cooked flesh was gone. In its place was the faint, musky smell of the rabbit’s furry coat.
“Scat!” said Leech, scooting it away with his hands. “Be gone, little one. Back to the carefree existence you once cherished.”
The rabbit wasted no time. It bounded off into the dark thicket that surrounded the backwoods clearing. Soon, it was completely out of sight.
“How’d you do that?” asked Rusty, his face slack with amazement.
Leech raised his hands. “Please. A good magician never reveals his secrets.”
“But there’s no way you could’ve done it,” said Chuck, clearly impressed.
“Oh, but I did, didn’t I?” replied Leech.
Rusty, Maggie, and Chuck smiled and laughed. Keith was the only one who saw the doctor’s magic trick in a different light. Something about the resurrection seemed unsettling and wrong, although he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why he should react in such a negative way.
For the next hour, the four sat there, totally enraptured while Augustus Leech entertained them with feats of magic, ventriloquism, and juggling. He chilled t
hem as he produced a live tarantula from his open mouth, threw his voice above, behind, and below them, and juggled the live coals of the campfire without burning his hands. Leech’s tricks were bizarre and far removed from the norm, but they held a certain appeal for the four twelve-year-olds. Anybody could see a rabbit pulled from a hat. But to see one brought back to life… well, that was something different.
Toward the end of their visit, Doctor Leech pulled a wooden case from an inside pocket of his black coat. The box was about the size of a DVD case, the wood dark and gummy with old vanish, the brass hinges tarnished with age.
“What’s that?” asked Keith.
“Something special,” he told them. “Something magical.”
He opened the case and withdrew its contents. It was a deck of oversized cards. They looked to be as old as the box that held them. The pasteboard was brown and frayed around the edges, and they smelled musty, like the yellowed pages of old books. The illustration on their backs was the same; a sleeping half-moon and a scattering of stars against a pitch black background.
Chuck watched as the man shuffled the deck in his skinny hands. “What are they? Tarot cards?”
“Similar in a way,” said Leech. “But these deal more with dreams than with the telling of futures.”
“Interpreting dreams?” Maggie wanted to know.
“No, my dear lady,” said the man with a smile. “The giving of dreams.”
“What do you mean?” asked Rusty.
“Everyone has a secret fantasy, a private world they yearn to explore. You four are no different than anyone else.”
Intrigued, they watched as his pale hands fluttered like night moths, cutting the deck and shuffling it with a grace that was nearly hypnotic. When he finally stopped, he stared at the uppermost card of the big deck.
“Maggie Sutton,” he said softly.
The girl jumped. The mention of her name startled her, for she could not recall having introduced herself to the man. Come to think of it, none of them had.
When Leech lifted his eyes to her, they were soft and dreamy. “I know where your heart lies. Sawdust and dusty canvas. The rich scent of cotton candy, buttered popcorn, and roasted peanuts. Bareback riders, lion tamers, a tiny automobile disgorging a multitude of clowns. Pink spandex and lace, the feeling of open air on all sides. An adoring audience, their eyes transfixed skyward. On you.”
He peeled the top card off the deck and handed it to her. Maggie stared at the rectangle of pasteboard. It had no numbers or letters in its corners. Rather, the face of the card depicted a single illustration. A lovely, blond woman tiptoeing across a taut high wire above the distant earth of a circus arena. Staring up at the lovely performer were the faces of the crowd, hazy and unidentifiable, yet full of wonder.
Leech shuffled the deck once again. When he stopped, he peered at the card that ended on top. “Rusty McLeod,” he whispered.
The farm boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.
“Your heart belongs to the Old West. A hot sun blazing down on an Arizona desert. Sagebrush, tumbleweeds, and thorny mesquite. A narrow dirt street lined by false-fronted buildings, horses tied to the posts, drinking from watering troughs. A tied-down holster, a shiny Colt .45, and a polished brass star. Both respect and contempt from those within your midst. And always the challenge of a gunfight just beyond the horizon.”
Rusty took the card that was handed to him. It depicted a frontier town with a U.S. marshal standing in the center of its single street, his hand hovering over the handle of a pearl-handled six-shooter, ready to draw.
Again the brittle fluttering of cards. “Chuck Adkins.”
Chuck nodded and waited, his face pensive.
“Your heart is that of a warrior,” said Leech. “A desolate landscaped blasted and burnt by shell-fire. The stench of cordite, blood, and wholesale death. An earthen trench filled with men clutching M1 carbines, waiting for the order to attack. An order that can only be given by you. A strong and courageous leader who would lead his platoon through the very gates of Hell if need be.”
Chuck took the card. On it was a drawing of a machine-gun wielding sergeant leading a wall of soldiers across a battlefield, bombs bursting all around them.
Doctor Leech shuffled the cards, his eyes moving toward the last one of the four. “And now for you… Keith Bishop.”
Keith held his breath. The revelations that Leech had revealed about each one of his friends had been mysterious and fascinating. But when it came to be his turn, he felt a strange sensation build down deep in his belly. A sensation very much like dread.
“Your heart is dedicated to the eradication of evil,” said Leech, his voice holding a trace of amusement. “A city of skyscrapers and rain-soaked streets. Crime reigns supreme. Speak-easies and mobster dens, payoffs and corruption. But above it all, an unstoppable champion of law and order. A trench coat, a gray fedora, and a .45 automatic holstered beneath your armpit. Prepared to hit the streets and force the power of good upon those who thumb their noses at it.”
Keith knew what he would see when he looked at the face of the card. A handsome cop in a hat and raincoat standing on a dark city street, a badge in one hand and a blue-steeled .45 automatic pistol in the other.
The clearing was thick with silence for a long moment. Then Leech spoke. “These are your secret dreams. Your secret lives. To live them, you only have to place these cards beneath your pillows at night and you shall be transported there. To experience the exhilaration and glory, the thrill and wonderment of being swept away from this dismal town and into the dreamscapes you so strongly desire to explore.”
Keith looked skeptical. “Oh, you’re just pulling our legs!”
“No, I’m not,” assured the lanky wanderer. “All you need do is try them out and you will see that what I say is true.”
The four looked at Augustus Leech and saw that he was dead serious. He actually believed that the cards had the power to transport a person into the depths of their most cherished dream.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try,” said Rusty.
“My gift to you will work,” said Leech. “You have my word on it.”
The four sat there and stared at their individual cards, hoping that what he promised was true, but afraid that it was merely an illusion, like the resurrected rabbit or the spider-out-of-the-mouth trick.
Doctor Leech suddenly laughed. “Come now! Don’t take it all too seriously. It will be fun, you shall see. Like a rollercoaster ride at the county fair. No true danger or peril. Only adventure.”
His words seemed to break the spell that had transfixed them. They laughed and smiled, again entertained by their host’s unusual brand of theatrics.
“Well, we’d best get going,” said Rusty almost reluctantly.
“Farewell, my young friends,” Leech said. He returned the wooden case to his coat pocket and stood. “It has been a pleasure meeting you all.”
“Same here,” said Chuck, as the tall man helped him effortlessly onto the shoulders of Rusty and Keith.
“Yeah!” agreed Maggie. “Wait till everyone in town finds out about you!”
A guarded look crossed Leech’s gaunt face. “Not quite so fast, young lady. I must ask you to keep my presence here a secret for the time being. You must promise to tell no one, not even your own families.”
“How come?” asked Keith, suddenly suspicious.
“I need ample time to prepare for my grand entrance,” he told them. “I want my visit to Harmony to be a surprise. How can I mystify and delight those who have already been heralded of my impending arrival? Besides, I must first locate a couple of sturdy horses to replace those who abandoned me.”
“Amos Hadley has horses for sale,” suggested Rusty. “His farm is the first one you’ll come to down the road here.”
“Then I shall see if I can make a deal with the honorable Mr. Hadley,” said Leech. “Now, remember, not a single word about me to anyone. Give me a few days for preparation and, I prom
ise, I will put on a show for the citizens of Harmony the likes of which they have not known for a very long time.”
“That sounds great!” said Rusty with a smile. “I can hardly wait.”
A broad grin crept across the man’s whiskered face. “Neither can I.”
After saying their goodbyes, they left the backwoods clearing and left the cedar grove. Soon, they were trudging back up the northern slope of Hell Hollow, their hands clutching the cards Leech had given them and their lightened by their unexpected encounter.
All except Keith, that was. “Doesn’t it kind of seem strange, him being down there like that?” he asked when they reached the rim of the hollow.
“He explained what happened,” said Chuck as they sat him back in the sidecar. “It does sound sort of weird, but he seems like a nice enough fella.”
“Yeah,” said Rusty. “So what’s bugging you?”
Keith shrugged. “I don’t know. He just doesn’t seem kosher.”
“I thought he was right entertaining, if you ask me,” claimed Maggie. “You’re just being a stick-in-the-mud, that’s all.”
“All these city-slickers are overly paranoid,” explained Chuck. “It’s just their nature to be suspicious.”
“And these stupid cards,” continued Keith. “What a load of bullshit!”
“Aw, it was fun, Keith, and you know it,” the girl admonished. “Besides, I’m going to try mine.”
“Me, too,” said Rusty as he climbed on his bike. “Who knows, it might just work like he promised.”
“Suckers!” snickered Keith. He felt like throwing the card away, but he didn’t. He stared at the picture of the police detective and felt something nag at him. A strange feeling of longing. Puzzled, he stuck the card in his back pocket. If nothing else, it would make a neat souvenir of his one and only trip to Hell Hollow.
On their way back down Sycamore Road, the banjo tune they had heard upon approaching the clearing came back to Keith. He ran it through his thoughts several times, before he finally realized what the tune had been.
