Nel called to the lady, “Dear woman, do you have Sheriff Mulvey’s square?”
A smile broke out on the woman’s face as she produced the handkerchief from the cuff of her dress. Cheers and applause followed Si as she returned to the stage.
Ray’s eyes were drawn to Si’s dark hand. It swirled with slight sparkles, like lightning bugs in twilight.
* * *
Ray laughed as Conker lifted a fat woman up in a chair one-handed.
“Ray,” Nel hissed for the third time, batting Ray’s head with his fez. “We’ve nearly reached the denouement and I need you to go retrieve more tonics. There’s a boxcar toward the back of the Ballyhoo. You’ll find the extra supplies of tonics. We’re dispossessed of the Johnny Chapman’s Apple-flavored Arthritis Anodyne. Can you remember that? Get a dozen bottles and some tins of the Chief Joseph’s Nasal Naphtha. They’re all labeled. Hurry! After Marisol and Redfeather, we’ll be bustling with customers. Run!”
Ray looked once over at Conker as the giant lifted four people effortlessly, each pair clinging together to a bench ten feet above the stage. Sorry to miss the rest of Conker’s performance, Ray dashed off the back of the stage. The noise of the crowd dissipated until all Ray could hear was the lone melody of Mister Everett’s fiddle. He reached the side of the boxcar and climbed up through the open doors. Ray pulled the Pirate Queen’s silver dagger from his coat pocket and used it to pry the lids off several boxes. Jangling bottles and tins in their crates, he read the labels until he found the Arthritis Anodyne and the Nasal Naphtha.
A sound jerked his head from the task. He cocked an ear and listened. It was faint at first, but as he focused, he could detect a soft singing. Ray dropped the bottles into an empty crate and slipped out the door of the boxcar. He tilted his head about until he discovered the source of the song. It was coming from the locked car next to the boxcar.
The singing was low and melancholy, and Ray placed his ear to the door to listen better. There was something about the voice, something about the song that made him want to listen, made him want to get inside the car. Ray was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to pick the lock, to break down the door, to tear the side off the train if only it would allow him to hear the singing better.
“What do you think you’re doing?” A sharp voice startled Ray. The spell was broken and Ray turned shamefully to face the Chinese escape artist. Si’s eyes flickered as she saw the dagger in Ray’s hand.
“Using it to pry the lids off,” Ray explained as he slid it back into his belt.
Si scowled. “I assumed you were a half-wit, but that’s not a lid. That’s what we like to call a door. Nel sent me to find you. Now, get back to the show with those tonics!”
As Ray followed Si, he glanced back once more at the locked car.
The musicians were playing a slow, sinuous song in some exotic scale that accentuated Marisol’s serpentine dance. She wore tinkling bangles on her wrists and ankles. A pair of rattlesnakes coiled down each of her arms, shaking their tails in time with the dance. A black viper, exposing its long fangs at the audience, was wrapped around Marisol from her waist to her neck, but Ray could not pay attention.
His heart was still pounding. His throat felt hollow and dry. What had just happened to him?
After Marisol finished and Ray helped Nel sell the next batch of tonics, he was starting to feel less shaky.
“You all right?” Shacks asked as Ray settled back to the floor next to him. Ray nodded and turned to Nel at the front of the stage.
“Allow me to introduce our final performance of the afternoon … from the land of Cochise and Geronimo, grandson of the only warrior to escape the Salt Canyon Massacre in the Arizona Territory …” The pitchman pointed to his right. “The bloodthirsty Chiricahua Apache scout … our fire-eater … Ember Joe!”
Stepping out from behind the curtain on the left-hand stage, Redfeather wore his pin-striped brown pants and a newly donned crimson shirt over which he had layered dozens of necklaces of beads, shells, polished bones, and copper. His long braids were crowned with a pepper-red silk sash. A stream of fire burst from his mouth over the heads of the ducking crowd. Squeals jumped from those at the front of the stage.
In the middle of the stage, Redfeather placed a copper bowl filled with burning coals onto a stool. He took two flaming batons from the bowl and began spinning them through his fingers and throwing them high in the air. He danced and somersaulted, all the time creating twin circles of flames with the batons. After returning them to the copper bowl, Redfeather poured a vessel of oil onto the hot embers, shooting tall flames up from the bowl.
Redfeather rolled up one of his sleeves past the elbow. He pulled a penny from his pocket, showed it to the audience, and then stuck the penny and his hand into the center of the flames. The audience shouted. Dumbfounded, Ray leaned forward to get a closer look and saw that although the fire lapped Redfeather’s arms, his flesh had not the slightest indication of being burned.
Redfeather pulled his hand from the flame and held up the glowing molten penny for all to see. The fire-eater then pinched down on the penny, mashing the coin into a lumpy shape, which he then rolled in his hand into a string of copper. Putting the melted coin back into the flames, Ray watched as Redfeather fashioned the copper that had once been a penny into a ring. Redfeather dropped the copper ring into a bucket of water on the edge of the stage. As the audience applauded, Redfeather took the cooled ring from the water and tossed it to a young boy standing at the front of the stage.
“Give him a hand,” Peg Leg Nel urged the crowd. Redfeather took a bow. Nel then asked, “Would you like to see our fire-eater bob for an apple?”
Nel took an apple from a bowl by his tonics and tossed it up to Redfeather. Redfeather placed the apple into the flaming copper bowl. Ray could see the apple burning, its skin quickly turning a papery black.
Standing before the bowl of fire, Redfeather pushed his braids back over his shoulders and readied himself. To Ray’s astonishment, Redfeather plunged his head into the heart of the flames. Then Redfeather stood upright, the charred apple locked between his teeth. His face did not seem to have even broken a sweat, much less been burned.
The audience erupted in whistles and cheers.
As the performers poured out onto the stage to take a final bow, Nel beckoned Ray to the front of the stage. Several customers gathered around with outstretched hands full of coins, bills, even some barter items. “Get these people some of the Molly Pied Salve. Yes, sir. Burning belly? Ray, hand that man a B. Zell Bub Tincture.” Ray snapped to work, taking money and handing out the medicines.
As he did, he thought about the performers. Conker was unusually strong and Seth skillful, but Si’s tattoo was something more. And what he had just seen Redfeather do was … impossible! Ray realized now what Seth and Redfeather had meant at lunch when they said some performers were born with skills but others had to work for their talent. No amount of work and training could have taught Si or Redfeather to do the things they had done.
Nearly an hour later, Ray and Nel finished with the last customers.
“We’ll have more tonight. Sorry, folks,” Nel said over and over. “Come back at seven o’clock this evening and we’ll have more—more miraculous tonics and more astounding acts! Tell your friends.”
As the last people exited the tent, Nel turned to Ray, drawing his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. “I take it you enjoyed the performance?”
“Yes,” Ray said.
“Well, we’re heading off tomorrow. I could certainly use your help.”
“Where are you going next?” Ray asked.
“Winston,” Nel said. “And then vagabonding south to—”
“South?” Ray asked. “You’re going south?”
Nel spread his hands and gave a wide grin. “Unless the cardinal points have shifted, I do believe we’ll venture south.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Ray said, unable to contain his relief as he smiled. T
he lodestone had been leading him south before it inexplicably stopped … before it had brought him to the medicine show.
“Of course you are.” Nel nodded. “Abide as much time as you wish with us. The job is yours. Come. Let’s get more tonics unloaded from the boxcar.”
RAY HAD BEEN UP LATE WITH THE OTHERS, DISASSEMBLING the medicine show’s tent and stage and packing everything into the Ballyhoo. He woke the following morning to find the train already traveling.
Ray stepped out into the cluttered hallway, rubbed his eyes, and walked to the vestibule to get some air. On the other side of the low-topped tender car, Eddie was working with his father up in the locomotive. Eddie gave a friendly wave before lifting another shovelful of coal from the tender.
“You’re awake,” Conker said from behind him.
Ray turned and then looked up at the giant crouching in the doorway to the vestibule. “Is it late?” Ray asked. “I was exhausted.”
“Midmorning, I reckon,” Conker said. “You missed breakfast. Ma Everett left out some food for you.”
Ray followed Conker down the hallway. He had trouble getting the hang of how to sway with the movement of the jostling train. As he fell against the wall when the train took a turn, Ray imagined that it was like being on a ship. Soon he’d forget about the nauseating back-and-forth motion, and by the time they stopped, it would probably feel strange to walk on solid, motionless ground. But for now he felt a little sick and had to keep looking out the windows to keep steady.
Conker pointed to a door as they passed. Ray could barely see where he was pointing, as the entire hallway was filled with Conker’s enormous frame.
“You know that’s the washroom there? You’re close to it, so that’s good.” Conker then pointed to a door up ahead as they crawled over the boxes and debris in the hallway. “Here’s my room, but I most never sleep there at night. Too tight. Can’t fit on the bed. I rather sleep in the boxcar or outdoors or sometimes in Nel’s car when the weather turns cold.”
As Conker opened the door to show Ray his room, he lurched back with a yelp, nearly crushing Ray in his panic. A copper and black viper as thick as a man’s forearm slithered across the quilt on his bed. Conker fell to the floor as he scrambled away from the snake.
Seth and Redfeather burst from the room next door—Seth howling with laughter and Redfeather tentatively chuckling behind him.
“Get—get it—away from me!” Conker stammered.
Ray wasn’t keen on touching the snake but felt he had to help the terrified giant. “You heard Conker. Get that snake out of his room!” Ray snapped at Seth.
Seth waved his hands. “Easy there, rube. It’s just a little joke. No need to get crabby.” Glaring at Ray, he cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted, “Marisol! Javier’s out again.”
Marisol emerged from her room, farther down the hall. “¿Qué esta pasando? What’s he doing down there?” She pushed playfully at Seth as she came down. “You teasing Conker again?” She whispered something, and the viper slid from the bed, coming out into the hallway past the terrified Conker, and to Marisol’s hand.
Ray raised an eyebrow. “Did you just speak to your snake?”
“So?” Marisol lifted the fat viper, caressing him like a pet Pomeranian.
“How … can you do that?” Ray asked.
Marisol’s eyes darkened and then she hissed, “Déjame solo.”
“Come on,” Seth said, knocking his shoulder into Ray as he followed Marisol back to her room. Slouching with his braids dangling against his shoulders, Redfeather glanced briefly at Conker and then Ray. He seemed about to say something but then turned to catch up to Seth and Marisol.
Ray helped Conker to his feet. “I hate them things,” Conker mumbled. “Anything with scales.” He shivered.
“Why don’t you stand up to them?” Ray asked. “I grew up in the city. Bullies like Seth, you just have to act tough. You don’t usually have to fight them. Just stand up for yourself, and they’ll leave you alone.”
“Oh, they’re just fooling is all, Ray,” Conker said good-naturedly but looking a little embarrassed. “Besides, this ain’t the city. And they ain’t bullies. Seth just likes to kid around, and Redfeather … well, he just goes along with Seth.”
Ray shook his head.
Conker stopped at the last room before the vestibule and knocked. “Si. You in there?”
Si opened the door, but her smile faded as she saw Ray.
“Hey, we’re going to the mess car,” Conker said. “You want to come?”
“No. Not now. I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
Si looked again from Conker to Ray. “I’m just busy, that’s all!”
Ray said, “That was a great performance, by the way. Really amazing.”
“Thanks,” she said reluctantly.
“I guess that’s how you found the Ballyhoo.”
Si’s eyes narrowed.
“You know?” Ray added. “Back when you and Conker rescued me in the forest. You found your way to the train with … your hand, right?”
Si slipped her tattooed hand into her loose sleeve and scowled. “I guess you think that makes you some kind of genius?” She slammed her door before Ray could say any more.
“Did I say something wrong?” Ray asked Conker.
“Aw, don’t let her get to you. Si acts tough, but she’s a kitten. You’ll see.”
They left the sleeping car, crossed the windy vestibule, and went through the door to the mess car. Conker went to the cabinet and took out a plate piled with cold flapjacks, a square of grits, and several pieces of curly bacon.
After sitting down at the table, Ray began eating. “I’m glad you’re staying on with the show,” Conker said, taking a big bite from an apple.
“Yeah, me too,” Ray replied through a mouthful. “Conker, how can you all do these things?”
“What do you mean?”
“Marisol speaks to snakes,” Ray said. “And Si has that tattoo. Redfeather can hold fire. I mean … it all seems so impossible. Doesn’t it?”
Conker shrugged, shifting his eyes uncomfortably as he munched on the apple. “I don’t know for certain,” he said. “I reckon none of us do, ’cause Nel don’t like talking about our parents. But I can figure it.”
“Figure what?” Ray asked.
Conker stopped chewing and leaned closer. “That our parents were Ramblers.”
Ray’s brow twisted. Hadn’t Buck mentioned something to Nel about Ramblers? And Hobnob. He had been babbling on about the Ramblers and John Henry and some Gog machine thing.
“Who are the … ?” Ray began to ask, but at that moment the door to the mess car opened, ushering in the wind and noise of the train. Ray and Conker turned to see Buck step in. He wasn’t wearing his gun belts or his cowboy hat, and Ray was struck again by the image of Buck in the swamp.
Buck paused, sniffed, and said, “Little late for breakfast, boys.”
Conker stood. “Ray overslept. I’m just … showing him around. Come on, Ray. Let’s go see Shacks.”
Ray quickly shoveled down a few more bites and placed the plate in a bucket on the floor. As Conker looked at Ray and cocked his head toward the back of the train, he said, “Where’s Nel, Buck?”
Buck poured a cup of coffee from a tin kettle. “Taking a rest.”
“Oh. Okay. See you later.” Conker quickly led Ray to the door.
Ray looked back at the grim cowboy once more before stepping onto the vestibule. Buck’s pale eyes seemed to be staring right at him as the cowboy sipped from his cup of coffee. Ray looked away quickly before realizing that Buck couldn’t be looking at him. Or was he—in the cowboy’s own mysterious way?
Ray followed Conker onto the vestibule and through the car that Buck and Nel shared with Nel’s workshop. When they reached the next vestibule, Ray realized they were standing before the locked car. Conker put a hand to a ladder next to the car’s door. “Can’t go through.”
“How come?” Ra
y asked.
“Off-limits,” Conker said. “Buck’s orders.”
“Why?” Ray asked.
“Got me.” Conker shrugged. “Nel just bought this car a few weeks ago from some circus in Richmond, but none of us know what for.”
“Have you heard anything … any singing coming from it?”
Conker furled his brow. “Singing? No. Why? You heard that?”
Ray nodded. “It wasn’t like any music I’ve ever heard before. It sounded … eerie. And it did something to me. I’m not sure what, but it was strange.”
Conker said, “I guess that’s why Nel and Buck said for us to stay away from it. No telling what’s in there. Let’s get. You okay climbing up on top?”
Ray looked at the ladder. “Up on top of the train?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it safe?”
“If you don’t fall off. I never have.”
Ray took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “I guess I’ve already jumped off a moving train.”
“You have?” Conker asked with admiration.
“I’ll tell you all about it,” Ray said. “Lead the way.”
Ray followed Conker up the ladder to the top of the car. He was relieved to see a metal railing around the sides of the car, in case the Ballyhoo took a sharp turn and Ray slid to the edge. Fortunately, that didn’t happen. With the gale-force wind whipping around them, they crawled to the other side and came down the ladder.
On the next vestibule there was a door to the boxcar. As they went in, they had to scramble over the piles of crates, rolls of canvas, and assorted supplies stored for the performances.
“Not so bad, huh?” Conker asked as they came out the other side and went into the caboose. “Hey, Shacks.”
Shacks nodded from up in the cupola. As the brakeman, his job required him to watch the train and the tracks ahead and be ready in case his father signaled to stop.
The Nine Pound Hammer Page 7
