by Abra SW
“So what’s next?”
“Did you watch your friend?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He won’t want to leave,” Christopher admitted. “He’s sparking Clara, though she hasn’t figured it out yet.”
“And so?”
“You can only make a person do what they’re willing to do,” Christopher said slowly. “And he’s not willing to leave.”
“Rule Number 2: Always—”
“—know how your audience will react,” Christopher finished. He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. “He’s happier here. So what now?”
“One of the most important parts of being a clown is entertaining the children,” Ginger said.
“Oh, yes?” Christopher asked suspiciously. This sounded like it actually pertained to being a clown. He didn’t trust it.
“Rule Number 8 of being a clown: Win children’s trust.” Ginger smiled. “You need to practice.”
“I do?”
“Oh, yes. Why don’t you go to Mrs. Della Rocca’s boarding house this afternoon and—collect—the younger children. Bring them here. At a small stop like this, the circus will only set up the freaks, the menagerie, and the Museum of Educational Novelties. No acts or performances, but it’s still more than this town’s ever seen. The children will love it, and you’ll get good practice.”
“Do you think Mrs. Della Rocca will give her permission?”
“I happen to know that she’s planning on touring all the fields this afternoon. Following up on those mysterious sightings of strange men in the woods, I daresay.”
“Should I leave a note?”
“Of course! Something along the lines of, ‘Return our man,’ would be appropriate.”
“You don’t want me wearing a clown costume when I take the children, I’m guessing?”
“Now you’re catching on!” Ginger snapped his fingers. “The Pinkerton with the scar should do nicely—unless you think we need another stranger. Probably not. We’ve already got them jumping at shadows in the fields. Take the children, entertain them out of sight for about an hour, and then bring them to the circus. Let Mrs. Della Rocca start to fret. Then I’ll tell her where her children are.”
“Wait—you don’t want them as hostages to get her to stop kidnapping people?”
Ginger waved a hand. “Hostages are so much trouble. Far better to take your enemy’s mind hostage. Let their fears do all the work.”
~ * ~
Ginger, the Whitefaced Clown
Seppanen Town, Connecticut
Dressed as just another circus roustabout who’d been working in the fields all day, Ginger headed to the saloon, burlap sack in hand. He bellied up to the bar and reached into the sack, a move that made the dark-haired saloon keeper tense up. She reached a hand under the bar. Concealed shotgun, he guessed. Yes, he and the new kid had made the townies plenty nervous. He let the smile show as he pulled out a potato and plunked it down.
“Can I trade that for a whiskey?” he asked.
“Two potatoes,” she answered matter-of-factly.
Ginger nodded and pulled out another one. When he got his drink, he retired to a table by the window with a good view of Mrs. Della Rocca’s boarding house.
He’d sipped his way through half his whiskey by the time she came back from the fields. She went into the house. Lamps flared to life. Minutes later she dashed back out, looking around frantically. She shouted, waited, and shouted again. She stormed off down the street.
Ginger sipped. A quarter of a whiskey glass later, she returned, shoulders sagging. She sat on the steps and buried her face in her hands. Almost there, Ginger judged. Eventually, she pushed herself to her feet and plodded back into the house.
Ginger sipped the rest of his drink at the same slow pace and then got up and left. In a dark alley, he pulled the wig, the duster, and the badge out of his burlap sack. He tucked the empty sack into a corner and walked across to Mrs. Della Rocca’s boarding house. He knocked politely and smiled when she answered the door.
She stared at him. Her knuckles whitened around the door edge. “Where—are—they?” she hissed.
“I am sorry about that misunderstanding, ma’am,” he said. “The children are fine. My partner returned them to a safe place before he left. Our missing man was sighted in New York—the messenger found us just a little bit ago. My partner’s tracking the lead. I’m to head West.”
“So nobody’s expecting you?”
“Not for months.”
She glued a smile on. “Please, come in. Sit down. Have some biscuits and tea and we can talk.”
She busied herself in the kitchen and then returned with a mug of tea and a biscuit for him. She sat down opposite. He noticed she didn’t get refreshments for herself.
“Where are the children?” she asked, in a controlled voice.
“The circus,” he told her. “My partner wanted to avoid a confrontation. He figured they’d be safe there and they’d enjoy themselves. He bought the tickets.”
“So now you’ll go and leave our little town in peace.” She stretched her smile. “You haven’t tried your biscuit yet.”
He picked it up. “Well, I’ll leave you in peace. Of course, since we’ve got an operation nearby, our men—and women—will be passing through right regular-like. Mostly in disguise as ordinary travelers. I’ll check in with our operation headquarters before I go, to make sure they know everything’s fine here now.”
She lunged across the table and batted the biscuit out of his hand. It hit the floor and rolled into a corner. “I’m terribly sorry,” she babbled. “I just remembered that one fell on the floor earlier. I set it on the counter, but somehow—let me get you another one!”
~ * ~
Christopher Knall
Christopher hovered near the edge of the circus encampment. He wore the rough clothes of the laborer disguise. The circus tents had been set up on the other side of the field. The music and lights would attract the townsfolk. When he saw Ginger approaching, burlap sack over his shoulder, he hurried out to meet him.
“How did it go?” he demanded.
“Her understanding of the situation has been—altered.” Ginger gave Christopher an up-and-down assessment. “You look strained.”
“Have you ever tried wrangling that many kids? I was happy as heck to turn them loose. With all the townsfolk heading out for the circus, though, I’m worried somebody will recognize me.”
“Recognize you as what?”
Christopher struggled for words. “Recognize me as any of the things I’ve been!”
Ginger smiled. “I’ll put you into clown makeup and a costume. Nobody will look at a clown and see a Pinkerton, or an escaped laborer.”
“Is that what being a clown is about?” Christopher asked. “Hiding who you really are?”
“Oh, it’s nothing that simple,” Ginger said. His voice was grave, but his eyes were merry. “Being a clown is about becoming whoever is needed, whenever they’re needed.”
~ * ~
Dr. Christopher Janzen, the Great Doctor Panjandrum!
Dr. Janzen, as the Great Doctor Panjandrum, gave his spiel and sold his snake oil and noted down the names of those who complained of muscle aches and weakness, or nervous energy. He would give the names to Mrs. Della Rocca. She could keep her eye on them, though that might not do much good. It was a long list.
After the townies returned home, he retired to his wagon. He stared glumly at the bed. He didn’t see himself sleeping well for a long time to come.
A knock on the door shook him from his reverie. “Hello,” the fortune teller said, when he opened the door. “I was wondering if we could leave the body of the ‘bandit’ here so Seppanen Town can give him a decent burial.”
He coughed. “Ah, that might not be a good idea. He’s a bit—cut up.”
Behind her veil, the fortune teller’s lips moved in an unexpected smile. “Now, would that tendency be why you lost your license? Did
you pay the grave robbers for their harvest?”
“A knowledge of the human body is indispensable for a practicing doctor,” he said stiffly. “The education given in most medical schools is wholly inadequate. If the knowledge I have was gained by unconventional means, it has still saved many lives.”
She sighed happily. “I do love it when the pieces fall together. But, ah, you should bury the body before it starts to smell. No keeping it in formaldehyde.” She paused. “Nobody will complain about the ringmaster, though. He’ll make a nice addition to the Museum of Educational Novelties. And after all, his body might be evidence in a murder trial. The police tend to get cranky when you dispose of evidence.”
He stared at her. “Who are you?”
~* * *~
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading my novelette! If you enjoyed it, won’t you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer or book review site?
If you’re interested in reading the entire adventure of the Loyale traveling circus, you can find it (including this interlude) in the full-length novel, A Circus of Brass and Bone.
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Also by Abra SW
To enjoy other stories by this author, writing as Abra Staffin-Wiebe, visit her website at http://www.aswiebe.com.
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A Stranger Comes to Town
Copyright 2015 Abra Staffin Wiebe.
Bimulous Books, Minneapolis, MN
All rights reserved.
First published in this format January 2015.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.
Table of Contents
Description
Title Page
Prologue
A Stranger Comes to Town
Author’s Note
Also by Abra SW
Copyright
Table of Contents
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