“Who’s Lucy?” Darla’s mind sifted through the members of the menagerie she had seen last night in the dim light of the lantern.
“She’s the pig, of course. Don’t you remember?” Johnny set the bucket on the wagon steps. He led Darla through the trees a short way until they came to a large, decaying stump. The boy knelt down under some bushes and drew out three wood and wire contraptions.
“Are those traps?” Darla craned her neck for a better look.
“Yes. They’re empty, but that don’t matter. Shirley ate last night, and Earl a few days ago. They’ll keep.”
“Oh. Rats for the snakes?”
“Yep. They’re live traps, since the snakes like to catch their dinners.” Johnny slipped the traps into a pouch hanging from his belt and headed back to the wagon.
When they passed through the cart’s funny little door, they were greeted by a chorus of grunts, chirps and squawks. Two white doves cooed from a second cage Darla hadn’t noticed the night before.
“Over there.” Johnny pointed to a large jug in the corner. “Could you make sure everyone gets fresh water?”
“Sure.” Darla leaned over the pig’s pen. Lucy was tiny for a pig, and light pink with gray spots.
The porker swished a small, bare tail and sniffed the air.
“I don’t have your food, he does.” Darla pointed to Johnny. She grabbed a broom hanging from a nail beside the pen and used it to pull the water dish closer to the bars so it would be easier to reach.
“Don’t worry, she won’t hurt you.” Johnny reached through the bars to scratch Lucy’s ears. “She’s the nicest pig in the state of Texas.”
Lucy closed her eyes and grunted.
“When we stop this afternoon, I’ll take her outside for some exercise.” Johnny poured his pail of slops into the small trough. “And we’ll clean her pen. I swish it out every day. Lucy gets grouchy when her place ain’t clean, same as anyone.”
Johnny showed Darla how to open the bird cages and slip in their water and food without letting them out.
“Bad girl!” The parrot squawked and snapped at her hand when she reached in for the water dish.
Darla pulled it back quickly. “Goodness, I never had a bird talk to me before!”
“Don’t mind Fred.” Johnny sprinkled in a handful of food. “He’s sassy when he’s hungry.”
They fed the snowy rabbits and the white mice, which Johnny explained were used in the magic show and not meant for snake food.
The snake cages came last. Darla shuddered as a forked tongue flicked out between the wooden bars.
“I’m not gonna make you touch ‘em. Dr. Ebenezer don’t let the new girls handle the snakes.” Johnny reached in and pulled out a twisting shape. The snake was light tan with dark olive markings along its length. “Come on out, Shirley.” The boy placed the creature around his neck, and the snake, after arranging its coils, settled down in apparent contentment.
Johnny handed Darla the water dish, and she hastened to empty, clean and refill it. She placed it back in the cage.
As Johnny finished putting the snake’s home to rights, Darla reached out a trembling finger to stroke the reptile’s skin. The scales were smooth and cool. The only other time she’d touched a snake was as a child of six, when her dad let her hold the hide of a rattler he’d killed. It really is beautiful, in a twisty, snaky sort of way.
After making sure each beast had food and water, Johnny wiped his brow. “Whew, what a job. We should be moving any time now.” He counted on his fingers. “Fifteen folks in the troupe now, including the baby. Six or seven of us walk during the day to lighten the load. Everyone takes turns. You have good walking shoes?”
Darla stuck out a foot to reveal her black leather boots. “They aren’t pretty, but they’ll be fine. I’m going to see if I can help someone else.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be out in a minute.” Johnny said with a smile. He sat back on his little bench, still holding Shirley. Darla could hear him talking to the snake as she went out of the wagon.
Ketzia moved through the teams of large white horses, checking the harnesses of each team as she went.
“Darla.” The gypsy girl’s eyes lit up. “Did you sleep all right?”
“Sure. I can sleep anywhere.” Darla waved her hand. “But where do you sleep? Are you married?”
“I stay with Fatima and her family. Our people keep separate. It is just our custom,” said Ketzia. “I am married, but my love is far away.” Her merry face sobered. “Niccolo is with a ranch in Fort Worth. He’s earning money so we can save for a house and land of our own.”
“I thought gypsies never settled down.” Darla surveyed the rows of wagons. The two gypsy wagons were easy to tell from the others, with their rounded tops and brightly colored exteriors.
“He and I have traveled with family all our lives.” Ketzia leaned against the creamy white flank of a lead horse and tapped on the front of its leg. The animal obediently lifted a massive, feathered hoof, as big as Ketzia’s head. She picked at the dirt with a sharp stick. “First when we were babies, in Russia.”
“You’re fine then,” Ketzia said to the horse, and lowered the foot back to the ground. “Fifteen years ago, our families sailed on a great ship to America. But now, after our wagon wheels have dug into every road across this land, Niccolo and I are ready for a peaceful home.”
“I’m sorry for making assumptions,” Darla said. “I’ve dealt with my own share from other folks.”
The gypsy woman laughed. “It’s all right. Yours aren’t cruel and don’t come with thrown rocks.”
A shout came from the lead wagon, and it jerked forward. The other carts began to roll after it.
Ketzia leapt to the driver’s seat, her long hair billowing behind her like a dark sail. “Ride with me a ways?”
“I’d be delighted.” Darla’s body was still weary from lack of sleep, and Ketzia seemed like the sort of person she would like to have as a friend. She swung up and into the seat beside her.
“Don’t you miss your husband?” she asked Ketzia.
“Very much. He is so kind and very handsome.” Ketzia pressed her free hand against her heart. “But he works hard for us, and will come when he can. I send him telegrams so he knows where we are going. And if I am lucky, his letters sometimes reach me too.”
Ketzia raised a dark eyebrow at Darla. “And you? There is someone you left behind as well?”
Darla stared out across the fields, green with fresh spring growth. “How did you know?” she finally asked. “Are you one of those fortune-telling gypsies?”
“No, I’m not,” Ketzia said in a sharp tone. Her face softened. “I’m sure that’s something else you have heard in stories of my people. That we are all pagans and witches?”
Darla nodded, too embarrassed to speak.
“Don’t feel bad. Most people think this.” Ketzia patted her hand. “No, my family are Christians. Very strong in our faith, as are many Romanis. We only eat certain foods. We have many traditions. It is our way.”
“Is that why you don’t stay in Miss Miranda’s tent?”
“Yes. But . . .” A bright smile spread across Ketzia’s face. “I do enjoy making new friends.”
Warmth filled Darla’s heart despite the chilly spring morning.
“Now, about your young man,” Ketzia pressed. “It’s not that hard to see, you know. One pining heart recognizes another.”
“Oh, I can’t say he’s my young man,” Darla brushed her fingertips to a burning cheek. “He probably never wants to see me again.”
“But he holds your heart, doesn’t he?” Ketzia smiled. “And you hold his. I can almost see it there, beating in the palm of your hand.”
Darla glanced down, in spite of herself. “Yes, I suppose we both have . . . well . . . a fondness for each other.”
“His parents do not approve?”
“Honestly, I don’t think Ma Downs would have minded, except . . .” Darla rested her chin o
n her hands. “I wasn’t who I pretended to be.”
“What?” Ketzia leaned back. “You’re not Darla?”
“No.” Darla had to chuckle. “The name is right. I suppose the way to put it is . . . I’m more than I said I was.” She turned her head, and even though no one could possibly hear them above the rattle of the wagon, spoke quietly. “I was a saloon girl.”
Understanding dawned over Ketzia’s dark, lovely face. “Ah. Served drinks. To men.”
“And danced. And sang. I didn’t sell myself though. Not once.”
Ketzia stared over the broad backs of the horses to the road. “I see.”
Darla fought the urge to clutch at the girl’s arm. “I’ve changed so much! I left that place behind forever, five months ago. God provided a way for me to escape. My friend, Soonie, she told me God would forgive me no matter what I’d done, and He did. I prayed with Brother Jenkins and accepted Jesus in my heart.”
Ketzia twisted the reins tighter around her hands. “Then why did you not explain these things to your man? He deserves to know. Does this man love God?”
Darla bowed her head. “Yes, he does. Very much. That’s what made it so hard, Ketzia.”
“If he follows God, then he knows about forgiveness. And he might be able to forgive your past, if he truly loves you.”
Darla’s eyes filled with tears. “But how could he forgive the lying? Don’t you see now why I had to leave?”
Ketzia bit her lip and nodded. She stared down at the reins in her hands. “I still think he might forgive you, though. If you only tried.”
She doesn’t even know me, and yet she cares so much. “I don’t know. I think it’s too late.”
They rode in silence for a long time, listening to the hooves clopping and the jingle of the harnesses.
14 ETHAN’S CHOICE
“They took the northeast road, and that’s all I know.” The bearded man scratched his jaw. “These medicine show folks don’t say much. I’m not liable to ask questions unless I have a suspicion.”
“I see.” Ethan tried to remain calm, but his fingers twitched on Jack’s reins. Darla’s already so far away. “You’re certain the girl was with them? And she didn’t seem to be in trouble?”
“Depends on what you call trouble. She wasn’t hurt or nothing, if that’s what you mean. Said she was their sister, or some such.” The man tipped back his hat and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Never could get the gist of what she was telling me. She’s crazy as a bat, that one. You the fellow she was gonna run away with?”
Ethan shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that. I’m her friend and I’m worried about her. That’s all.”
The bearded man sighed. “Well, that’s good, what with her father’s health.” He gave Ethan one last searching look. “If you’ll ‘scuse me, I ain’t had my breakfast.” He turned and ambled off in the direction of the food stands.
Drops of sweat beaded Ethan’s forehead. Darla told us her parents had been dead for years. He shrugged. The guard didn’t seem to be the brightest individual. Whatever happened, the man must have misunderstood the situation.
The horse pawed the ground. Ethan clicked his tongue and tapped his heels into the heaving flanks. “Come on. Let’s see if you can catch up with them.” The northeast road heads out of the city. I’ll see if that guard was right about that much at least.
Ethan patted his saddlebags. He’d come to the fair on a hunch, and had hoped to goodness Darla might still be there. At least I have enough food to last a few days.
Before leaving Downs House, he’d darted into the kitchen for provisions, where he’d had a confrontation with Mrs. Betty.
“Your heart’s gonna break in two again if you get mixed up with that girl. You should just let her go, that’s what I think,” she had warned. “And what will your ma say?”
“I’m a grown man, Mrs. Betty. I told Ma where I’m going, and she understands. The house will be fine without me, and I’ll only be gone a few days at the most. I have to go. If I don’t . . . I have to at least try this time.”
Creases had formed on the dark forehead and she’d pursed her lips. “Go with Jesus, boy. And may He hold your heart together even though you insist on tossing it out in the dirt.” She’d waved him away and turned back to her stove.
I have money. A lump formed in his throat. He’d gone into town first, to see if anyone had seen Darla. He’d wondered around for an hour before he’d remembered her mentioning the medicine show and how much fun it might be to join one.
He’d hesitated only a moment before walking into the store. Ethan knew the fiddle wasn’t worth the crisp bills the man had placed in his hand.
“I’ll keep it for you awhile,” the shopkeeper had promised. “You can buy it back.”
Ethan shook his head. If I can’t find Darla, I’m not sure if I’ll want to play again, anyway.
After a half hour of riding, something else the fairground guard had said floated up in Ethan’s mind, and he drew up the reins. The horse tossed its head and played with the bit. “Sorry, Jack.” Feller she was running away with. The words tickled his conscience, like those gnats that came out in flurries at the end of summer.
The red-haired man last night. Darla knew his name. Could he have been a former lover? But why would she pretend to care for me when she loved someone else? Did she care? She had flirted with him, but that could have just been her playful nature shining through.
Would Darla run away with another man without even saying goodbye? He clenched his fist and held it to his forehead, forcing the air to come in slow, even breaths. I will not give in to the anger.
Jack shifted from foot to foot, waiting. Ethan stared down the road, counting the birds that swooped down to pick up worms from the mud.
Finally, Ethan clicked his tongue and urged the horse forward. This time, I have to know.
###
Doctor Ebenezer used a leathered finger to trace the mysterious symbols carved into the tree trunk. “Yep, looks about right. Kickapoo Medicine Company came through, but it says April 1899. Two years is plenty of time.”
“All the shows leave notes for each other on message trees,” Johnny whispered to Darla. “That way, folks have time to save up money again before another troupe comes by.”
“And to forget any stomach cramps or septic fits the last batch of remedies gave them,” Ketzia added, rolling her eyes.
Darla had settled into the travel lifestyle fairly well in the two days since she’d joined the caravan. Her shoes were the only things she’d taken from the items Downs House had provided for her. She’d left one of her precious half-dollars to pay for them, along with the note of explanation.
The note hadn’t really explained much of anything. She’d thanked them, of course, and included as much of an apology as would fit on the bit of paper, a link of the chain she had saved from the orphan’s Christmas party.
She sighed and moved over to the barrel set up on a wooden crate beside the lead wagon. A community cup hung from a nail on the side and she filled it with water and took a small sip. Better not to think about Down’s House. Thoughts like that would lead to Ethan and . . . Oh. The cup slid from her fingers and clattered to the ground.
Peter, one of the two youngest gypsy boys, ran over and handed it back to her. “Here you go, Miss Darla.” His smile was so sweet and full of innocence; she couldn’t help but return it.
Music floated through the camp, and she wandered over to the fire. Ketzia’s father, Mr. Shishkeer, and Ketzia’s brothers, Fonso and Pasha, played a lively tune. Ketzia twirled to the rhythm, banging her tambourine. The musical notes danced in the afternoon breeze, almost tangible. Perfect to keep me from thinking about Downs House and . . . him.
Pasha was married to Fatima, but Fonso winked and twirled his long, thick moustache at Darla whenever she passed by. But he never spoke to her. Darla wasn’t used to being treated with such indifference, especially by a dashing young man, but it didn’t bother her. Only one
man held her heart, and she ached to hear his voice.
Shaking her head, she tried to focus on the upcoming show. She’d already practiced her ‘bit,’ as Johnny called it, for the performance. The costume and play seemed innocent enough, nothing she would blush for doing, even if Brother Jenkins happened to be in the crowd. Still, the true purpose of the presentation didn’t make much sense.
Doctor Ebenezer assured her all would be revealed when the time came. He wanted her to learn as she went. “Keeps you on your toes,” he’d added cryptically.
Plenty of mysteries had presented themselves for her to mull over during the hours of travel while she trudged beside the wagons. What did Doctor Ebenezer actually sell? The only medicine she’d seen was the bottle he had ‘dosed’ her from at the fair gates, but these wagons must hold hundreds of dollars’ worth of products to fund so many people and animals. What is in the lead wagon? Why can’t I see it? If I’m going to be part of the show, I should know all about it, shouldn’t I?
Darla had never seen a medicine show in action, though she’d heard tales from a few cowboys who’d been to them.
While Darla gazed at the fire, Fatima came by with bundles in her arms, heading in the direction of a nearby stream.
Must be doing laundry. Darla raised her head. “Ketzia?” she called to her friend.
“Yes?” The girl put down her tambourine and came over, silk skirts swirling around her feet.
“Isn’t the performance tonight? I thought the town was less than a mile away.”
“No, no.” Ketzia shook her head. “The zanies will be the only ones in town tonight. They’ll talk to the city leaders to make sure our show is welcome. It’s their job to find a good location for us to hold the show, and they post hand-bills so everyone will know when to come.” She pulled a piece of paper covered with block-printed letters from the pocket of her skirt. “We’ll arrive a half-hour after we’re supposed to be there. The crowd will be foaming at their mouths, waiting for us.”
“Oh.” Darla pulled off her hat and fluffed a few of the feathers that looked a bit droopy. “I suppose that makes sense.”
The Saloon Girl's Journey (Texas Women of Spirit Book 3) Page 10