by J. T. Edson
‘Janice, me dear,’ said Thornett, looking in some surprise at Phyllis and the girls. This was a team job, and they did not hang back from it at other times. ‘Get your guitar and entertain the good people whilst the rest of us make ready. We’ve an audience and nothing to show them.’
‘That’s no audience, Doc,’ warned Phyllis. ‘It looks more like a lynch mob to me. Let’s forget it and move on.’
‘Nonsense, me dove. True, they appear a touch soggy and dull, but I’ll toss ‘em a few fifties which will tickle’ their sense of humour better than a goose-feather. They’ll probably turn into quite a warm and appreciative audience before we get through with them.’
Phyllis doubted that. From the looks of the crowd, it would only be responsive when the marshal either took the show to jail or chased it out of town. She saw the faces of two women in particular among the others. One was thin, narrow and sharp, a mean face. The other was fat, bloatedly fat, yet it was not a happy-fat face. These two seemed even more vicious and hating than the others.
‘Look there, Mrs. Haslett,’ the fat woman said in a loud voice which carried to Phyllis. ‘That man’s got four women with him.’
‘Just goes to show what sort of folks they are, don’t it, Mrs. Millet,’ replied the thin one maliciously.
Phyllis’s face flushed red at the words. The insult did not annoy her for her own sake, but for the implied slur on the innocent Doc and her daughters. It was at that moment Phyllis decided the time had come when she must take the initiative and persuade Doc to marry her. That would put things on a basis where such remarks could not be made. Right now it was more important that they got out of town, and she opened her mouth to say so.
A man was coming along Church Street, stepping through the crowd on the plaza. The people made way for this man, allowed him through, then moved up behind him.
He was a big man, tall, wide-shouldered and hard-looking. His face showed some strength, it was a hard face and one without the saving grace of humour about it. On his head was a Union Army officer’s campaign hat. His clothes were of the same sober black. Unlike the majority of the men in the crowd, he wore a gunbelt. A fast man’s rig from the look of it. The holster was low-hanging, tied to his leg, the side cut away to allow the trigger-finger to find the guard of the revolver. It was the rig a good man with a gun would wear. The old range saying went, ‘A man who ties down his holster doesn’t talk much—not with his mouth.’
Phyllis watched the man. She did not need to see the marshal’s badge to know who he was. This was the great seizer, the man who shipped a dance-hall girl back to Tucson without letting her walk on the streets of the town. This was the man who threw Scully and Willy into jail on a charge of offending public morality. She knew who he reminded her of and did not like the comparison. There was a look about him which reminded her of Wyatt Earp. Yet this man was different from Earp in one respect. He would not take a bribe, whereas the rumour was strong that Earp not only would, but often did.
Thornett studied the crowd as they moved forward. They were far less enthusiastic than he’d expected, but he was prepared to win them over as he’d won over many another town from here to California and back the long way.
‘Greetings, good citizens of the fair town of Baptist’s Hollows,’ he began. ‘I am here today with a rare and exciting offer which may never come your way—’
‘You’ve got just fifteen minutes to get out of town.’
Thornett halted his speech as the words came from the town marshal. He frowned and threw the man a look which had quelled many a frontier bully. There was no apparent effect this time.
‘I beg your pardon, my good man. May I ask you to repeat that most extraordinary remark.’
‘I said you’d got fifteen minutes to get out of town. See you’re gone.’
‘Now see here, my man,’ boomed Doc, eyebrows fluffing angrily and face reddening in indignation. ‘I have come out of my way, at considerable expense, I would add, to include this town on my itinery. I would be obliged if you—’
‘You heard what I said,’ snapped the marshal, stopping Thornett’s tirade. ‘We don’t want your kind in this town.’
‘Kind sir, kind!’ Thornett replied, ignoring the muttered agreement with the marshal’s words. He could also see that Phyllis had been right all along but did not mean to give up without a fight. ‘You make it appear the West is full of purveyors of my Superior Elixir. I assure you that this is far from being so.’
‘Cut it out,’ the marshal’s voice dropped to an angry growl. ‘I’ve told you how long you’ve got here and—’
Doc knew his sole remaining hope was to talk the other man down and do it fast. ‘Do you suffer from aches and pains, my good public servant? Or are you a martyr to indigestion? If so, allow me to present to you, free, gratis and without any cost at all, one of my Superior Elixirs. This potion of mine, handed down from an Indian medicine man—’
‘Listen you,’ growled the marshal, in a tone which warned Thornett off. ‘One more word like that and I’ll jail you for attempting to bribe a peace officer.’
‘Run them right out of town, Major Ellwood,’ screeched the thin woman. ‘We don’t want that sort of rabble in our town.’
The marshal turned and shook his head. ‘I gave them fifteen minutes and they’ve got a little less than that now. They aren’t going to give their indecent show, but they might want to buy some supplies or something.’
The thin woman looked as if she were torn between two conflicting emotions. Her husband owned the local store, and it would most likely be he who profited from any trade the medicine show brought. She also wanted to see the show chased out of town. Putting on a simpering smile that was reserved for important people like the marshal and the minister, she said:
‘Well, I suppose we must show some charity. I just did not wish our young people to be corrupted by their kind.’
That was the sort of thing Phyllis expected from people like these. They would not allow the show to perform but were willing to take its money. Apparently, taking Thornett’s money would not endanger or corrupt anyone. She looked at Doctor Thornett who was now facing Ellwood, all puffed up like a bantycock.
‘Come on, Doc,’ she said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘Major Ellwood’ll see you do,’ jeered the fat woman. Her eyes showed her hatred and envy at any other woman who was better favoured than herself. She hated Phyllis for looking younger, healthier and happier than herself.
‘Now wait a minute, Mrs. Millet,’ a thin, mournful-looking man put in. ‘Like the major says, they might want to buy supplies.’
Thornett ignored this. He fastened the knot he’d loosened ready to lower the stage. Then, with quiet dignity in every line of his frame, turned to run a final bluff on the marshal.
‘I suppose you are aware that the mayor of the town is a personal friend of mine, my good man?’ he asked. ‘And that he—’
For a bluff it missed by a good country mile. ‘I’m the mayor, and the town marshal,’ Ellwood answered. ‘You’d best get to moving, time’s running out on you.’
‘Don’t worry,’ snapped Phyllis, watching various people consulting their watches. ‘We’re going as soon as we turn the wagon.’
‘We need supplies, maw,’ Janice put in, coming forward.
‘Don’t we have enough to make Fort Owen?’ Phyllis asked, not wishing to allow the people of Baptist’s Hollow any profit from their show.
‘Not unless you want to eat grass all the way.’
‘A most unpalatable source of nutriment, me dove,’ said Doc, climbing back on to the wagon. ‘Far less so than more normal human food.’ Taking out a notecase which drew avaricious eyes to it, Thornett extracted several bills and gave them to Janice. ‘Purchase a sufficiency to enable us to reach Fort Owen, my dear.’
Taking the money Janice went through the wagon, opened the door and climbed down. In other towns there would have been plenty of young men willing to help her down. Her
e there was no such move. The young men in the crowd studiously avoided looking at the girl. The crowd parted to allow her through. Thornett started his horses moving, and drove slowly to give the girl time to make her purchases. At the water-trough on the side of the plaza, he halted the team and told the girls to water the horses. The crowd made no attempt now to either help or hinder. They just stood watching, blank unfriendly faces staring at everything the medicine show people did.
Janice walked through the crowd and along to Haslett’s General Store. She pushed open the door and entered: The store might have called itself general, but it did not stock the wide range of other such places she’d seen. There was food for sale and a few cooking utensils, but none of the other wide range most general stores sold. The store was empty, except for a young man who was sweeping the floor. He put down the brush and came towards the girl. He was a tall, slim, good-looking man of perhaps twenty years. There was something about him, some look, which did not appear to belong to this town.
‘Serve you, miss?’ he asked.
‘Sure,’ Janice replied, looking at the well-stocked shelves of canned goods. Quickly she gave him a list of what she wanted, and he went about filling the order with deft hands. All went well until she said, ‘I’d like four cans of peaches.’
The peaches were right on the top shelf, and a ladder stood by for the purpose of bringing them down. The young man looked around him cautiously. Then, ignoring the ladder, he picked up his broom and knocked four cans off the shelf. They fell one after the other and he caught them as they dropped, each landing on the one preceding until he held all four on the palm of his right hand.
‘Say, that was good,’ remarked Janice, for the move was slick, smooth and showed practice. ‘I’d like a couple of cans of tomatoes as well.’
To her surprise the young man casually knocked down the required cans, catching them on top of the peaches. ‘Shucks, that wasn’t nothing much at all,’ he said. Looking cautiously around once more, he dropped his voice. ‘You’re with the travelling show, aren’t you?’
‘Sure,’ agreed Janice, waiting for either a sneer or an obscene suggestion.
Neither came. The young man looked friendly and delighted at meeting a member of a travelling show. He shot a scared glance at the door as if not wishing to be overheard in what he was going to say.
‘I saw me a travelling show one time when I was in Tucson. Mr. Haslett took me in to do the heavy lifting. Left me while he went to the meeting house. So I slipped away and saw the show. Was a juggler in it and he was good. I come back home and tried to learn his tricks. I never let on to Mr. Haslett about it. He reckons all you show folks are sinners.’
‘He could be right,’ answered Janice.
‘Shucks, I know what he is. That meeting house he went to—it had a red lamp hanging outside. Say, how’d you like me to show you a trick or two? They won’t be back while there’s a chance of seeing something.’
‘Sure, go ahead,’ Janice agreed tolerantly. She could see the young man was not happy living in Baptist’s Hollow. No young man would be. He was going to need to leave soon, or wind up like the older men here. The sort of man who would sneak off to a joy house when well away from his home, but would demand that no such establishment be allowed in his home town. She did not wish to hurt the young man’s feelings by refusing and so stood watching.
The young man placed her order in a sack, then took up six tomato cans. ‘My name’s Elwin,’ he said as he began to throw the cans into the air and catch them as they fell. ‘The Hasletts took me in after the Apaches got my folks.’
Took in would be the right word, Janice thought. The Hasletts did not appear to be the sort of folks who would perform any charitable action unless they saw a good return for the deed. Her attention went to the large, awkward cans as they flew through the air. Janice bit down an exclamation of surprise. She’d expected to see a simple trick. This was not simple. It was as good as any she’d ever seen on a stage. He ended the trick by catching them all one on top of the other.
‘That was really good,’ said Janice.
Laying the cans back where they came from, Elwin picked six eggs from a basket and began juggling with them. Janice held her startled words down. Eggs were far from being conventional material for a juggler. She could see why he used such unusual props; they were all that came to his hands. Janice gasped as one of the eggs flew off at a tangent and, by an apparent accident, was caught again. All the time Elwin did his act he held his face in an expression of worried concern which amused the girl. He was a natural, talented and skilled. Given the right sort of coaching Elwin could go far as a juggler. Janice found herself wishing Thornett could see the act and give his opinion of it.
So absorbed were they that neither Janice nor Elwin saw the two faces which peered in the window. They did not see the medicine show wagon come to a halt outside the store either. Elwin juggled and Janice watched until the door was thrown open and an enraged fern mine voice shrieked:
‘Elwin!’
The six eggs went crashing to the floor, breaking and making a mess. Elwin’s mouth dropped open. There was a guilty, furtive expression on his face as he turned to face the two women who entered the store.
‘Yes, Mrs. Haslett?’
The thin woman, followed by the fat one, came in, slamming the door behind them. They both crossed the room to face Elwin and Mrs. Haslett hissed, ‘I’ve warned you before about wasting your time like that. Now I find you fooling about with this hussy and breaking my eggs.’
‘I’d throw that trollop out into the gutter where she belongs, Mrs. Haslett,’ put in Mrs. Millet, secure in her extra size and weight. ‘The dirty little slut.’
Janice was the most even-tempered of Phyllis’s daughters. If Mrs. Millet had said such a thing about any of the others, particularly Patty, she’d have soon wished she kept her mouth tight shut. However, Janice held her temper for she knew anything she said would merely make it worse for Elwin. Taking out the money Thornett gave her, Janice put the price of the supplies on the counter and reached for the sack. She wanted to get out of the store before there was any trouble.
‘Just a minute, you,’ snapped Mrs. Haslett, moving nearer. ‘You pay for the eggs Elwin bust.’
For the first time in his life Elwin came out in open rebellion against the vinegar-tongued woman. ‘That’s not right, Mrs. Haslett. It was me, not the young lady who broke the eggs.’
‘Young lady, is it?’ Mrs. Haslett yelled. Backed by the hefty Mrs. Millet she was sure the girl would not dare object. ‘You keep your mouth shut.’
‘If anybody pays for the eggs it should be me,’ insisted Elwin.
‘Why you ungrateful young wretch,’ Mrs. Haslett squealed. Words seemed to fail her at that moment, and she swung the flat of her hand hard against Elwin’s face. The bony fingers left a red mark on his cheek.
Elwin took a step back, his face reddening with embarrassment at being struck in front of a stranger. Particularly in front of this pretty, friendly girl. Then he saw Janice lunge forward, going in front of him. There was an angry look on her face, the look of a female bobcat defending its young. Her voice was a low hiss, throbbing with fury.
‘Don’t lay a hand on him again.’
Mrs. Haslett stepped back before the fury of the small girl. Mrs. Millet, feeling secure in her extra size and weight, swung her hand hard. Janice’s head rocked to the slap, and she crashed into the bar by Elwin’s side. Never in all his life had Elwin seen such a look as came into the girl’s eyes. Janice appeared to be transformed into a savage, spitting hellcat, even as the big woman stepped forward to slap again. Without a sound Janice hurled herself at the big, fat woman.
For all her even temper Janice knew well enough how to take care of herself. She and the other girls sometimes found themselves involved in hair-tearing battles with jealous females of the towns they visited. Mostly Janice only joined in out of family feeling, but once in not even Patty could come to her for sheer fig
hting fury. Lowering her head, Janice ducked under Mrs. Millet’s reaching hands to butt into the fat stomach. The fat woman gave a startled, pain-filled gasp and doubled over with hands clawing wildly at Janice’s firm muscled body, but the girl was too fast for her. Swarming over Mrs. Millet and bringing the big woman crashing on to her back, Janice let loose the full flood of her temper, using feet, knees, fists, elbows and teeth to hurt the big woman. Mrs. Millet screamed and flailed her arms wildly, kicking her fat legs in a desperate effort to throw Janice from her. Without a sound Janice took a double handful of the woman’s hair and began to smash her head against the hard boards of the floor.
Screaming in terror and rage, Mrs. Haslett moved forward, caught Janice by the hair from behind and pulled her from Mrs. Millet. Janice let out a howl of pain, the first time she’d made a sound. Her foot lashed back and caught the woman on the shin. Mrs. Haslett let Janice’s hair free and howled, hopping on one leg. Janice came round and hurled at the other woman, driving her back into the counter by the fury of her attack. Mrs. Millet got to her feet and lunged after the fighting pair. Her right hand caught Janice’s frock and tore it, then they all tangled in a wild fighting mêlée.
Elwin stood pressed back against the bar, unable to do a thing. The fury of the fight scared him. He’d never seen women fight before, and the fury was far worse than anything he could imagine. The pretty, friendly little girl was now transformed into a wild-eyed, savage wildcat, for like most even people Janice was far worse than any bully when roused.
The three women staggered wildly across the floor and in a tangled mass hit the door, bursting it open and reeling out on to the sidewalk. Mrs. Haslett gripped Janice from behind, holding her while Mrs. Millet rained slaps at her face and head.