The Saloon Girl's Journey (Texas Women of Spirit Book 3)

by Angela Castillo

  The doctor held out his hand. “I present to you the Lady Lazerleena, from the mysterious country of Bangladesh!”

  Darla knew for a fact Miss Miranda had been born and raised in Oklahoma, but the crowd gave an appreciative ‘oooooh’ as the woman stepped out.

  Miss Miranda swept across the stage, her robe swishing about her ankles. Darla squinted. One of the snakes hung in placid coils around the woman’s smooth, white neck, so still he almost looked like a third braid.

  Many members of the crowd seemed to spy the snake at the same time; and there were gasps and squeals from the women. Murmuring rose up among the people, and some folks backed away from the stage.

  Doctor Ebenezer held out his hands. “Calm down, folks. I can assure you this creature will do you no harm, though he was once deadly as sin itself. After being tamed by the most skilled snake charmer in Bora-Bora, he’s as gentle as any kitten. Observe.”

  Miss Miranda walked around the stage, stroking the snake’s coils and humming a little tune as she moved. The snake slipped down her arm and coiled around her wrist like a thick, live bracelet. The woman seemed mesmerized by the reptile’s movement. In a sudden, swift motion, she planted a kiss on its head.

  The crowd gasped and burst into applause.

  Miss Miranda gave a demure smile and bowed, the snake still gracing one arm. She stepped off the stage and walked through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea before her. A row of buildings stood behind the audience and she disappeared behind them.

  I’m glad they didn’t ask me to hold a snake. Darla’s heart beat faster at the thought.

  Doctor Ebenezer waited for the applause to die away. “Yes, folks, we obtain the finest snake oils from our friend there. The snake, tame as he is, is pleased to contribute to the health and happiness of all upon this earth.”

  He held up a yellow bottle, so tiny Darla could barely make out the shape.

  “This bottle may not look like much, but the ointment inside can cure arthritis, vertigo, impetigo, heartworm, ringworm, and even the common cold.”

  “Is it really snake oil?” Darla hissed to Johnny Jingles, who stood beside her and waited to go on for their act.

  “Nope,” Johnny Jingles rolled his eyes. “But it will help to cure lots of ailments. The doctor just dresses up the truth a bit, that’s all.”

  Darla’s shoulders sagged. Should I be a part of something that deceives people, no matter how helpful it may be? One of the nuns at the orphanage had tried to convince her to take some nasty-smelling medicine once when she’d been sick. After many failed attempts, the elderly woman had told her it was angel juice from Heaven. The ruse had worked, and she’d gulped it down. Later she’d realized the woman had fibbed because Darla had been dangerously ill and the woman was terrified she’d lose her.

  She shook her head. The Bible clearly said not to lie. Oh God, what should I do?

  Johnny went up on the stage, dressed in his colorful costume and jingling shoes. He used his fingers to give a loud whistle. Lucy, the pig, pranced out in a ruffled collar.

  The crowd gave the loudest applause of the night as the tiny pig wove in and out of Johnny’s feet, fetched a ball, and jumped through a hoop.

  Holding out the hoop for a second time, Johnny whistled the pig’s signal.

  Lucy hesitated and backed away. She plopped down on her hindquarters, sticking her wrinkled nose up into the air.

  “Lucy, jump.” Johnny said in a threatening tone. He shook the hoop.

  The pig glanced back at him, grunted, and turned her back to the boy.

  The crowd howled with laughter. One man shouted, “Bacon for supper, then, kid?”

  Johnny’s face grew red. Fumbling in his pocket, he drew out a gun. He aimed it at the tiny pig and pulled the trigger.

  BANG! A bright flash lit the stage.

  Lucy fell to the stage, her little cloven hooves sticking up like pins in a cushion.

  The crowd gasped. A baby cried.

  The zanies rushed in with a tiny stretcher. One brother examined the stiff little body and shook his head. “Nothing we can do.” They rushed out again, leaving the pig behind.

  Darla took a deep breath. My turn.

  She moved to the stage with tentative steps. Her nerves bunched up in her stomach like writhing vines. I’ve performed a hundred times for a much rowdier crowd. I can do this.

  She moved out on the rough boards and stretched an arm out to Johnny Jingles. “What have you done? This animal was my only companion. My dearest friend!”

  Johnny covered his face with his hands and ran off the stage.

  “My poor darling.” Darla held out her hands to the motionless pig. “You are gone from this world, but not from my heart.” She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, turned to the crowd, and began to sing.

  “In the sweet

  by and by,

  We will rest on that beautiful shore.”

  Darla warbled as pitifully as she could. The pig stayed motionless at her feet for the entire song.

  Most of the women and a few of the men were wiping their eyes and clearing their throats by the final verse.

  After the last melancholy note, Doctor Ebenezer ran back on stage, his coat tails flapping. “My dear lady, what seems to be the trouble?”

  Darla gestured to Lucy. “Oh, Doctor, it’s my little Flossy. She has passed on to the great unknown before her time. My only comfort in this cruel, hard world has left me!” She buried her face in her black mantilla.

  “Never fear!” Doctor Ebenezer pulled a small canister from his never-ending supply of coat pockets. He held it out to the crowd. “An old Indian medicine man gave me the secret ingredients for this potion. One of these pills will pull any creature from the very jaws of death.”

  Darla felt the hot breath of the crowd on her skin as they drew closer to watch.

  The doctor shook a small white pill into his hand, opened Lucy’s mouth, and pushed it in.

  The pig trembled, and her legs twitched. With a little squeal, she jumped to her feet and darted down the stage. She disappeared over the side, where Johnny was hidden and waiting for her.

  Applause thundered once more. Darla bowed and left the stage, stepping lightly now that her performance was over.

  Doctor Ebenezer’s voice prattled on behind her, expounding on the virtues of his elixirs and pills.

  Johnny stood to the side, a grin covering his freckled face. “You did a tip-top job,” he said. “I’ve never seen a crowd cry so much.”

  “I’m kind of surprised. Aren’t these all farmer’s families?” Darla asked. “Some probably had bacon for supper!”

  “Silly, they didn’t cry for the pig.” Johnny’s eyes shone. “They cried because your voice is so purty.”

  Fatima came over and handed Darla the baby, her scarlet scarves swishing as she walked. Darla cuddled the bright-eyed child as his mother and big brothers danced on the stage with flaming hoops and torches.

  Soon the show ended. Crowds lined up all the way around the stage, coins clinking in their hands.

  Miss Miranda tugged on Darla’s elbow. “This way, Miss North. Doctor Ebenezer doesn’t like troupe members to watch the exchange of money . . . makes him nervous.”

  “Well, all right.” Darla headed back to the wagons.

  Why would Doctor Ebenezer care about that? Ketzia had told her what the troupe members got paid and it seemed more than fair. In fact, the sum was twice what she made at the nicest saloon she’d worked at. Darla was thrilled with the prospective amount she could make. Money earned would be money saved. With food and a place to sleep already provided, she shouldn’t have too many expenses. After saving enough, she’d travel to a respectable city, perhaps even in a different state. Maybe she’d get a good job, like she’d planned after deciding to run off with Soonie and the Comanche people.

  Miss Miranda always twists the truth, just a little, and I can never see why. Darla shrugged. In her former profession, she’d come across people who cou
ldn’t seem to tell the truth. Sometimes it was out of habit, sometimes as a defense. Maybe the snake charmer was the same way.

  As she neared the wagons, a lullaby rose above the trees. Fatima sat by the fire once more, singing to her baby and her boys. Darla had come to look forward to this time at day’s end. She had no memory of anyone singing her to sleep, though she liked to think her mother might have done so before she passed on.

  Out of sight among the bushes, Darla watched Fatima’s eyes glisten as she looked down at her little ones.

  I want that. Darla stood still for a moment and pressed her hand against her chest. I want babies to sing for, someday.

  The animal wagon sat deserted, but any moment Johnny and Miss Miranda would be back to check on things. Darla sat on the small outside stoop. She swung her feet like a girl.

  Feeling around in her pocket, she drew out the wooden rose Ethan had given her at Christmas. She always kept it with her, finding its warmth to be her only comfort at times.

  The folks in the medicine show were fascinating, and most of them seemed kind enough, but that commandment, “Thou shalt not lie,” kept going through Darla’s mind. What would Ma Downs and Ethan think of the show?

  Does Ethan miss me? This thought struck her so suddenly she flinched. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she wiped them away with a black taffeta sleeve.

  “Thinking about your man?” Ketzia stood beside her, a sympathetic smile on her face.

  Darla nodded. “I try not to, but sometimes I can’t help it.”

  Ketzia held out her hand. “Perhaps these will make you feel better.” She dropped three small red candies on Darla’s lap.

  Darla gasped. “Gumdrops? Where did you get them?” She put the rose back in her pocket.

  “I bought them at the general store. Sometimes I just need a sweet or two.”

  Ketzia scooted up next to her, and the two women swung their feet and ate candy until the rest of the troupe came back.

  17 EXPLANATIONS

  Ethan was wakened by a thin string of sunlight that stung his eyes the morning after he found Mr. Duncan in the woods. He sat up on the thin straw tic and promptly sneezed. Though Jerusha Duncan kept a clean house down below, she probably left the upstairs housekeeping to her son, and it seemed to Ethan that her fussy nature had not been passed down to him.

  After dressing hastily, Ethan climbed down the rough wooden ladder to the tiny room below. Mrs. Duncan was in the same place he'd left her last night, bathing her husband's forehead.

  “Good morning. He’s caught a slight fever.” The old woman pursed her lips. “It’s to be expected. I’m not seeing much redness around the wound, so I'll dose him with a fever draught. He’ll be all right.”

  Ethan walked over and stared down at the old man, curled up on the bed in his long john underwear. His breathing looks even. “Did he have any fits?”

  Mr. Duncan opened one eye and glared at them. “It's not like I can't hear you. Fellow's got ears.”

  I have to go today. I can't wait any longer. Ethan stepped outside to check Jack. Horses neighed for their breakfast and the cows bellowed pitifully, their swollen udders almost dragging the ground. I can't leave the Duncans in this state.

  Relief flooded Mrs. Duncan’s face when he told her this news. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “My son should be back by this evening. If you could stay until then, he can help us out.”

  Three days later, Ethan leaned against a hoe and surveyed the potato field. Digging out the rocks hadn’t been a difficult job. The Duncans had been in the area for years and there weren’t many left. But he’d had to find a distraction from the ticking clock.

  Mr. Duncan’s fever had broken yesterday, and he’d sat up for some breakfast this morning.

  Branches crackled from across the field, and Ethan turned to see a young man riding through the front yard. Chickens skittered across the dirt to avoid the thudding hooves.

  The man heaved his bulk from the saddle and tied the reins to a tree. When he removed his ten-gallon hat, Ethan could see a strong resemblance to Mr. Duncan.

  Mrs. Duncan came outside, wiping her hands on her apron. When she caught sight of the young man, she dropped the cloth, ran to him, and threw her arms around his neck. “Richard, where have you been?”

  The young man stepped back and mopped his face with a handkerchief. “Sorry, mother, didn’t mean to worry you. The boss added a few days work to the job.” He held a hand out to Ethan. “Not sure who you are, mister, but howdy.”

  Ethan shook the giant hand, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

  “Richard, meet Ethan Downs,” Mrs. Duncan said. “This young man saved your father’s life.” She turned to Ethan, a smile cracking over her thin mouth. “Now you can be on your way to find your lady friend.”

  Ethan squinted at the sun, sunk low in the horizon. All these days he’d been here, with no choice but to watch the great ball rise and plummet, his heart falling with it every night. He looked back at Mrs. Duncan and tried to return her smile. “Yep, I’ll pack up my things.”

  Mrs. Duncan took his earth-covered hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Dear man. Don’t worry; God will lead you to her, if it’s meant to be.”

  ###

  After a few days on the road, the caravan approached another town. But the doctor shook his head when he studied the mysterious symbols on the message tree. “Been a doings two months past.” He gave a handful of coins to one of the zanies. “Aaron, take your brother and get some supplies. Not too much. We don’t want folks to know how many of us are out here.” His bushy eyebrows drew together. “And no juggling.”

  “Would you like me to go along?” asked Ketzia. “Fatima and I have scarves and bracelets to sell.”

  Doctor Ebenezer nodded. “Get a feel for the town, though. If folks don’t want you there, don’t try too hard.”

  Relief flooded through Darla. She wasn’t quite ready for another performance. Besides, she had to learn a brand-new act, since Doctor Ebenezer didn’t like to use the same performances in towns too close together.

  Ketzia came out of her family’s wagon carrying an armload of bright scarves with intricately beaded patterns.

  “Those are lovely,” said Darla. “Can you really make money with them?”

  “Of course,” said Ketzia. “We sell them for a quarter each, some places. Women like to buy them to hang in their windows.”

  I bet Lisbeth and Patience would both love curtains like that. An unexpected pang of sadness hit Darla. Even though she’d made new friends on her journey with the medicine show, she missed the ‘unfortunates’ at Downs House. I wonder if I’ll ever see them again.

  A few hours later, when they stopped for the night, Doctor Ebenezer and Johnny taught Darla a new skit. It wasn’t much different from the play she’d already learned, but this time it involved her pushing Lucy, complete with a bonnet and nightgown, in a pram and pretending the pig was her child. Lucy was supposed to have come down with some ‘ailment’ and be on the brink of death.

  “Let’s try that scene again.” Doctor Ebenezer rested his chin on steepled fingers. “I think you could put more emotion into it. After all, it’s your own darling child who is sick.”

  “A rather ugly little tyke.” Darla stared into the pram, which was empty for this rehearsal.

  She sighed. “Maybe I’m having trouble because I don’t know what to believe about your products. Will any of them really help people at all?” A lump rose in her throat. “I should have asked these questions before I did anything, but I got caught up in the rehearsals and learning the skits. I’m sorry.”

  “I see. Why don’t we have a talk?” The doctor gestured for her to sit beside him under the tree.

  Johnny glanced at Darla, and then the doctor. “I’m going to check on the snakes. Back in a moment.” He walked off towards the wagons.

  “I suppose I should start with a bit of my history.” Doctor Ebenezer stared off in the distance, a look Darla already rec
ognized as a precursor to a story. “I was married once, very young. My wife and I were both younger than twenty. We found ourselves expecting a child after less than a year of holy matrimony. My parents had provided us with a small home, deep in the back pasture of my father’s property, in exchange for my help with farm work. For babies like us, it was a good arrangement. We were the happiest children who ever played house. But then came the morning my wife’s birth pains started. . .” He covered his face in his hands.

  Darla placed a hand on his arm. “Something went wrong?”

  Doctor Ebenezer looked up, his face drawn with pain. “The baby would not come. My mother stayed with my wife, and I galloped off to find the doctor. I found him, and we returned as quickly as possible, but she was already slipping away. I only had a few moments to say goodbye. The baby never even drew its first breath.” Tears rimmed the old man’s eyes, and he pulled off his spectacles to clean them. “Her first breath. Her name was Marian.

  “For months, I lived alone in our little house. My mother brought me food that I hardly touched. I became a living skeleton, wrapped in a cocoon of grief.

  “One night, I had a dream. My wife came back to me, bathed in the light of Heaven. She told me to take my pain and turn it into something useful, something that could help people.”

  Darla blinked. “I’ve never heard of a dream like that.”

  “Neither had I, but it was as real as this log we’re sitting on. I knew God allowed my wife to come and give me that message. I sold everything I owned but the clothes I wore, and begged my parents for money to travel to the Medical School of Cincinnati, where I received my certificate of medicine in 1859.

  “The war started soon after, and every bleeder, barber and dentist was forced into service. I didn’t want to go, but it was that or flee the country, so I slogged through four years of battlefields. I risked my life and my own limbs, and lopped off dozens of others. But I learned methods that saved many of my patients.”

  “It must have been terrible.” Darla sank back in her seat.