He spent his afternoons with the quickly growing band of circus children, picking up a few words in Hungarian along the way and teaching them all to shoot marbles. Sometimes in the evenings he accompanied the DePerczel children to their tent, and Mrs. DePerczel read to them from Robinson Crusoe or Ivanhoe. Charlie decided she was the most enlightened being he’d ever seen, not to mention that she was beautiful, with magnificent auburn hair that she coiled round her head with dozens of little pins. He worried only about her slightly tortured English, fearing that people might not take her seriously.
Other evenings he spent with Mr. Zheng’s children or with the two Jeanette boys, whose mother and father both worked with horses. The man’s name was Benjamin and he said little. The woman’s name was Carlotta, and she looked at him with such obvious sympathy that Charlie was embarrassed and quickly learned to avoid her gaze.
One evening after the other children had been called inside by their parents, Charlie explored the darkening camp. Eventually he found himself by the corrals, and he was staring at the Belgians when a voice surprised him from behind.
“Well, looks like I’m not the only one guarding the horses.”
He turned and saw Lewis looking at him with a tired smile.
“I like the horses,” Charlie said.
“So do I.” He gazed over his shoulder into the darkness beyond the corral. When he turned back to the boy, his smile had faded.
“Let’s go hit the hay.”
Lewis said nothing more as they walked back to his hut. Shelby was dealing cards to himself when they entered. After Lewis put Charlie into bed, Charlie heard him tell Shelby, “Had us a visitor out there by the herd.”
“What kind of visitor?”
“Tall skinny one in a top hat.”
“I didn’t think we’d be hearing from him so soon. What do you think he was up to—trying to devil the horses?”
“Not by himself, he’s afraid of horses,” Lewis said. “I think he’s trying to see what we got.”
The boy fought to stay awake, to hear more about this mysterious visitor in a top hat whose appearance brought a new note of seriousness into both men’s voices, but he was asleep in moments.
If Charlie’s evenings were often busy, the mornings were his alone. Consciously avoiding the company of the other children, he watched these circus people in the unending and often baffling task of assembling their traveling world and saw that they labored tirelessly and without murmur.
Performers joined the work crews, women alongside the men, and sewed or hammered or painted together. They mended costumes, groomed the animals, repaired fencing and corrals, patched caging, repainted the detail on trucks and Lewis’s beloved carillon wagon, and erected a makeshift smithy where Shelby and Tony Aiello the bear-trainer spent their days heating steel to the melting point and soaking themselves with sweat.
Just when it seemed that nothing, weather or fatigue or accident, could interrupt this schedule, a visitor brought the work to a halt.
SEVEN
Welcoming Committee
The newcomer arrived in mid-morning and made no effort to enter camp or even to get out of his car, just waited in a shiny new Packard, and Lewis Tully guessed the identity of his visitor as soon as one of the children described the car to him.
Lewis and Shelby went out to meet him, and Joe Miles emerged from the driver’s seat, his big body squeezed into an unpressed blue suit. The big man moved around the car and opened a rear door.
His passenger was all arms and legs, and he unfolded himself with some difficulty from the back seat. He wore a blue-and-red suit with what appeared to be gold leaf along the lapels, and a blue top hat that even in the faint light gleamed like polished steel.
Lewis came within a few feet of the car, shot a quick look of scorn at Joe Miles, and looked away in dismissal. Behind him, he heard Shelby mutter, “Thought I smelled somethin’ bad on the wind.”
Hector Blaney tugged at the bottom of his long blue suitcoat, smiled broadly, and nodded.
“Lewis! Last time I saw you, you were walking home through the mud. How long has it been?” Hector looked a question at Joe Miles. “1919, I think. How are you, old friend?”
“I get by.”
“Just barely, is what I hear.”
“What brings you to my camp, Hector? Posse chase you this way?”
A low cackle behind him told Lewis that Harley was somewhere behind him, and he thought he heard the shuffling of feet: an audience was gathering.
“I heard you were getting up a dog-and-pony show. Another one.” Hector smiled malice through uneven teeth.
“A little more than that, this time.”
“What, dogs, ponies, and a bear, maybe?”
“Oh, dogs, riders, elephants, bears, acrobats, wirewalkers, clowns. Nothing as grand as that big glittery show you run, but a circus, Hector. A genuine circus.”
Hector’s gaze took in the small crowd behind Lewis, and he shook his head. “They sure don’t look like much.”
Then something caught his eye and a puzzled look crossed his face. Lewis looked over his shoulder and saw that Hector was staring at Harley Fitzroy.
“Thought he was dead.”
“He was. We brought ’im back for the season.”
Hector gave him a sour look. “You’re a little old to be starting from scratch, Lewis.”
“You’re never too old to have fun, Hector. I was wondering when you’d get tired of creeping around in the dark and favor us with an actual visit.”
Hector Blaney feigned puzzlement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve seen you, Hector. I’ve seen you hanging back in the shadows and counting my stock and whatnot.”
“You’re crazy.”
Lewis shrugged. “Maybe I made a mistake. I guess it was just some other dandy in a top hat. Heard this Packard’s engine, though, Hector. Maybe it was just this handsome gentleman driving your car.”
Lewis smiled at the flat-faced Joe Miles, who glared at him and moved his shoulders under the tight coat. Lewis nodded.
“Been puttin’ on weight, there, Joe.”
“Wasn’t him, and it wasn’t me, neither. Hell, we just barely found your camp, Lewis—not much to it, is there?”
“Not what you’re used to, Hector. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”
“You wouldn’t be taking this little bitty show out on the road, would you?”
“I would. Kansas, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana.”
“Seems a bit ambitious to me. If it was me, I’d think about keeping it right here. If I were as smart as you, and I knew a real circus was going to be playing those places, showing people what a genuine show looks like, I‘d keep it right here.”
“Preston Crowe going to be taking that route, is he?”
“I’m talking about the Hector C. Blaney Circus and you damn well know it.” Hector glared at him, obviously stung by this uncalled for mention of his great adversary. “Ain’t any room for three circuses in those parts.”
“Well, I think that’s where we’re going. I think there’s plenty of room, long as all three don’t show up at the same time. You’re not afraid of a little competition, are you, Hector?”
“No, but you ought to be, Tully.”
“Why?”
Hector Blaney took off his top hat and scratched his head.
“Seems like things just happen to you, Lewis. If it ain’t a flood, it’s a fire or a storm. You’re not a lucky man. Dogged by misfortune, I would have said.”
Behind him, Lewis heard Shelby mutter that Hector might be dogged by misfortune soon.
Lewis said, “Hector, old friend. If I thought that was any kind of a threat, I’d jam you up the tailpipe of that fine automobile.”
Joe Miles stiffened and Lewis raised an eyebrow at him.
Hector sneered. “I don’t threaten small-timers, Lewis. I just speak the truth. You’d be a damn fool to try and take a show out on the road where I’m gonna be. A damn fool. Maybe that’s why you don’t ever have any luck.”
“Thanks for your advice, Hector. And you’re right, I’d be silly to bring my show anyplace yours is. So I’m planning to stay ahead of your show.”
Hector looked around at the small camp and shrugged. “Don’t look like you got much of anything that’s ready to take on the road.”
“Oh, you might be surprised, Hector. I think once we move, we’ll move pretty fast.”
“There’s nothing you can do to stay with a Blaney Circus.”
“If you really thought that was so, you wouldn’t have come here, Hector.” Lewis grinned at him, and Hector made an irritated wave of his long arm.
“I’m through talking, Lewis. You want your little show to see out the season in one piece, you keep it right here in Oklahoma. That’s all I’m gonna say.” Hector Blaney wheeled around and began climbing back into his car.
Lewis watched him settle into the seat. Just as Joe Miles was about to slam the door closed, Lewis smiled.
“Hey, Hector? You still wear those little things in your shoes to make you look taller?”
Shelby laughed, and Hector Blaney’s eyes showed the dark enmity Lewis had earned.
As the Packard moved off, Lewis felt Shelby’s hand on his shoulder. “I was wondering when he’d get around to paying us a formal call.”
“Hector still thinks he can put a scare into people just by showing his face. Truth is, we got too much to do right now to waste time worrying about that old scoundrel.”
“Hector never saw the day when he could teach you a thing about running a circus, Lewis.”
“He’s right about one thing, though: his show’ll be a lot bigger.”
Lewis looked in the direction the car had gone and said, “But for him to go through all this trouble, I’d say we’ve caused him some worry. Any time you can trouble Hector’s sleep, that’s a fair day’s work.”
A small crowd had gathered a few feet away, and Lewis could see worry in a few of the newer faces.
“It’s all right. Just go on back to your work, and don’t mind him. That’s Hector Blaney, and he’s full of wind and not much else. He’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Lewis saw Charlie standing with Harley a few feet off to one side, a nervous look on his face.
“It’s all right, son.”
The boy fell in beside him. “Why doesn’t that man like you?”
Lewis sighed. “Hector Blaney and me, we go back many years. We’ve always been, well, not rivals, exactly…”
“Adversaries,” Harley helped. “Blood foes, sworn enemies…”
“Now don’t get carried away here.” Lewis said to Harley and then looked at the boy.
“It seems Hector Blaney and Lewis Tully were destined not to get along. I’ve known him since we were seventeen or eighteen. We seemed to be rivals for everything: a couple of jobs, even a girl once. We fought a couple times.”
“Lewis broke old Hector’s arm,” Shelby said in an innocent tone and Lewis shot him a quick look of annoyance.
“You did?”
Lewis looked down at Charlie. “Wasn’t on purpose. He just fell sort of funny on it. He was mightily peeved about that.”
He fell silent for a moment and then said, “All of that stuff mightn’t have added up to much, though. There was something a little more to it. I got Hector fired from the Germaine Brothers Circus.”
“What for?”
“He tried to cause harm to somebody he didn’t like. Hector had a disagreement with another fellow in the circus, a trick rider. Over a lady, this was. Well, things didn’t turn out the way Hector wanted, and he made it pretty clear the fellow hadn’t heard the last of it. Pretty soon this rider started finding problems in his tackle, a loose bit, a cut in the reins, that sort of thing—to cause him trouble in his act, and maybe a lot worse. Then one day one of his horses started acting wild, trying to throw him: seems somebody’d gone and put a little shard of a razor inside the animal’s shoe, and the animal’s weight was driving that piece of razor into the hoof.”
Lewis looked at Charlie. “There’s nothing lower than one circus man causing hurt to another, and willing to maim a horse into the bargain. And the horses were my responsibility: the show was relying on me to see they were taken care of. I’d seen Hector coming out of the corral, and he didn’t have any work that would bring him in contact with the horses. I called Hector on it and we got to fighting. Ben Germaine, the bossman, broke it up and called us and the rider into his tent. When he heard what happened, he gave Hector the boot. That tore it for Hector and me. He never forgot that time.
“Later on, we both had our own shows and our paths crossed more often than either of us liked. His shows were always bigger than mine, a little fancier…”
“But never near as interesting,” Harley added.
“Hector never had much judgment about acts. Couldn’t tell a good circus act from his hind end. Got a gift for making money, though,” Lewis said in a musing tone. “One way or another.”
“I always thought he’d end up in jail,” Harley said.
“There’s still time,” Lewis said. “But the thing is, Charlie, my shows always gave ’im fits. It’s making him crazy to see I’ve got any kind of a show, even a small one. I confess I take a lot of satisfaction in that.”
“Will he try to hurt us?”
“Oh, he won’t do anything real serious, he won’t set fire to the trucks or have somebody shoot at us, or anything so troublesome as that. Not ’cause he don’t want to, but ’cause he’s afraid we’d come and do the same to him. Cowardly fellow. And vengeful. Miserable as well, and he just needs to share his misery. But that’s just something I have to deal with. Hector’s not your worry.”
They walked on in silence, and Charlie doubted that the last part was true.
Shortly after Hector Blaney’s visit, mishap began to visit the Blue Moon Circus.
A long black Ford full of men ran Shelby off the road as he drove into Jasper for supplies, and though Shelby was unhurt, his truck lost a wheel.
Twice someone visited the corrals: the first time, Lewis found a latch left just slightly out of its carved notch so that a horse could put its big body against the gate and be free in seconds. The second time Lewis was waiting. He jumped the intruder from behind, but the man wrestled out of his grasp, leaving Lewis holding the man’s torn jacket. The man ran through the trees, and a moment later Lewis heard the sound of a car’s chain drive beyond the pecan grove.
Another night, Sam Jeanette surprised a pair of men attempting to disable the generator. They left behind a crowbar and a pair of clippers.
They learned to be watchful, to put extra men on guard at night, to check ropes and gates and equipment constantly, to pay close attention to any stranger who approached.
And so Lewis took it seriously when Charlie came running one morning to warn him that riders were coming up the road. Lewis waited with a group of men at the entrance to the camp as the strangers rode slowly into view. There were four of them, all wearing kerchiefs across their faces against the wind and dust, and one held the reins of a pair of packhorses. They rode slowly, as if they were in no hurry, and when they reached Lewis Tully’s little line of men, the leader rode forward until he was just a couple of feet from Lewis.
He leaned over the saddle horn and stared at Lewis. “Wish I still carried a saber,” he said in a low growl.
“Enjoying yourself, Marcus?” Lewis said, and felt the grin spreading across his face.
The rider burst into laughter and dismounted. The other men relaxed as Lewis embraced him. Then Lewis introduced the short, stocky newcomer as Marcus Walling and the others as Jack Vance
, Jesse Turner, and Butch Blake.
“Captain Walling’s Rough Riders,” Lewis said. “Formerly of Teddy Roosevelt’s 1st Volunteer Cavalry and more recently with Pawnee Bill’s Circus.”
“Looks like you were expecting trouble, Lewis.”
“We’ve had a little bit.”
Marcus Walling looked back at his three companions, all that were left from their glory days as a circus and rodeo act: four aging circus men reduced to cowboying on other men’s ranches.
“Hector Blaney’s around, Marcus,” Lewis said. “It’s just like old times.”
Marcus Walling nodded and smiled. “I hope so.”
EIGHT
Old Tents, Old Men
A large contingent spent several days stitching at an enormous dun-colored piece of canvas from the side panels of Lewis’s tent, repairing holes and affixing large patches to it—squares of bright-colored cotton, hand-dyed bedsheets, even a few scraps of woolen blanket. These patches took their places alongside a hundred others, and it was clear that the patches had been chosen not to blend in with the plain canvas of the tent but for their gaudy colors. The long patchwork section was then attached to another, this piece adorned with shocking green and yellow stripes, and the crew spent an afternoon on it with paints and brushes.
When this work was finished, the side panels were joined to a circular piece of red-and-white striped cloth, and on the morning when the rain finally broke, the huge canvas was carried in a long heavy roll to a grassy place outside the camp.
Lewis collected every able-bodied person in the camp, and they took their places at the ropes, pulling and grunting till the mighty Top went up, resting on a little circular forest of poles that Lewis and Shelby had waiting beneath the canvas. When they were finished, they stood back from the great tent and stared at it in silence.
The Blue Moon Circus Page 8