“Yes, ma’am.” Babe quickly looked away, feeling a rush of dizziness.
“That’s Lucretia the Lobster Woman. This is Babe, our new strong act. Show her your feet, Lu.”
“That’s okay,” Babe said, her stomach giving another churn. She looked outside the window and tried to keep her eyes on the horizon. She stifled another deep, angry burp.
“Uh-oh. You’re green,” Madame de la Rosa said from the seat across.
“I know. You already told me I’m a new fish,” Babe muttered. The smell of tobacco smoke mixed with the scent of sticky-sweet perfume.
“No, I mean you really are green. You feel okay?”
“My stummy ain’t fond of moving so fast.” She rubbed her middle and hoped the leftover food she’d found and bolted down earlier didn’t bolt back up in full and with bonuses.
“Here. Switch seats. You should be looking forward, not backward.”
“This window open? Could use me some fresh air.”
A man pushing the food cart stopped beside them. There were two large kettles simmering on a gas burner. Overripe fruit dangled from hooks on the side, and slices of bread were stacked on a shelf below. Beer sloshed from a large growler attached to the cart. “Got yesterday’s hog hash and tomorrow’s red cabbage,” he announced flatly, lifting the lids, allowing the clashing aromas to drift up.
“Need air!” Babe said, sensing impending doom. She stood up fast and hit her head on the iron luggage rack overhead, bringing all eyes up to her just in time to see—and hear—her giant-size puke into the only vessel she could find—the huge growler of beer. Immediately, people yelled, moaned, tossed things at her, and ordered her to get out and get out now!
“Follow me,” Madame de la Rosa said. “Move that cart out of the way, Simon!”
“Damn you! That was the last of the beer in the keg!” Simon yelled back, tossing a towel over the growler.
Madame de la Rosa pulled Babe along to the aisle and out onto the open-air vestibule. Babe got her balance and inhaled deep gulps of fresh air. She leaned out, puked again, then leaned against the car. Tears rolled down her reddened face.
“You okay?”
“Never been more hurt-faced in all my whole life,” she said. “All them people. Won’t never live that down.” She nodded toward the dining car.
“Yes, you will. Here, blow your nose.”
Babe looked at the delicate lace-trimmed hanky and handed it back. “You ain’t never seed a giant blow her nose. Almost as ugly as cascading into a beer bucket. I got this.” She pulled out a large, crusty red bandanna. She wiped her tears, blew her nose, and stuffed the bandanna back into a pocket.
“Thank you, Madame de la Rosa.”
“Call me Rosa.”
“Thank you, Rosa.” They rode in silence. “I’m okay now, if you want to go get your vittles.”
“I’m enjoying the fresh air, too.” Rosa lit another cigarette.
Babe leaned out and looked toward the cars behind them. “Where do the critters travel? I’m thinking I’ll be better off bunking with them.”
“Cars F and G, down the back. Right after Carlotta’s car. Renoir has them crammed in like sardines, poor things. But you’re not a ‘critter,’ and you don’t ride with them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You feeling better now? You look better.”
“Think maybe I can go lie down? Been a long day.”
“Sure. I’ll go with you. Make sure you’re okay.”
She led the way back to the ladies’ sleeping car.
“Oh, that sweet little JoJo,” Rosa said, looking down on Babe’s made-up bed on the floor of the ladies’ restroom. There was a wilted wildflower on the pillow. “She must be quite smitten by you. She leaves flowers for people she likes. Dead rats for those she doesn’t. Renoir’s gotten his fair share! And that Carlotta! You should have seen what JoJo left for her!”
Babe smiled down at the flower. “JoJo’s nice.”
“I’ll warn you now, Babe, she’ll become a pest if you let her.” She tapped her head and added, “She’s forty-two but has the smarts of a three-year-old. And whatever you do, never touch that doll of hers. Thinks it’s a real baby.”
“Who watches out for JoJo?”
“We all do. She used to winter with family, but they up and left, so now we’re her family.” She pointed to Babe’s valise and asked, “Your pajamas in there?”
Babe felt her face go red again. “Alls I got is BVDs.”
Just then, a woman stuck her head in the door and shouted, “Hey, Rosa, you coming? Game’s starting up in Renoir’s car and he’s backing all bets.”
“You going to be okay here?” Rosa asked Babe.
“I’ll make do. I’m good at it.”
Alone in the room, Babe looked around. She shucked down, a layer of clothing at a time, to her BVDs, praying no one walked in on her. Using the couch to help ease her down, she spread herself out and pulled the blankets to her chin, exposing her legs to the knee.
Her eyes popped open wide. A new, strange screech. She held her breath and listened. Scream? Growl? Howl? What? It was pitched high and held long. Babe sat up. She could feel the hair on her arms rise up as the screech came again, this time muffled. Babe had heard wolf, cougar, wolverine, and maybe even once the howl of a tommyknocker mine ghost. But never a sound like this.
She settled back down and closed her eyes, trying to envision what sort of creatures Renoir kept. And an elephant! She’d seen a drawing of one in a picture book, but to think, here and now, in a railcar not far behind her, there was an elephant with fiery eyes and razor-sharp tusks!
She let that thought, the humhumhum of the wheels, and the gentle sway of the car lull her to sleep.
5
Babe opened her eyes, blinked as she looked around. Where was she? Oh! On the floor of the necessary room of a train. But they were no longer moving. She peered across the floor, into the toilet stall. There was what looked like a stepping stool set in front of the commode.
Then the person inside the stall scooted the stepping stool toward the back of the commode.
“Uhh! Uhh! Dag rat it! They did it again!”
Who did what again? Who was in there? She heard another small Ooof! followed by the toilet chain clanging against the wall. Babe quickly sat up as the door to the stall opened.
“Nothing but a bunch of no-talent jerks in this cheesy outfit!” the person snapped as she came out of the stall. Even sitting, Babe looked down on this little person. It wasn’t the diminutive JoJo.
Babe blinked in disbelief. This person was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, even more beautiful than the porcelain doll she’d left behind and not much bigger—maybe thirty inches tall. Jet-black hair that curled around a delicate white face, large emerald-green eyes, and a perfectly formed tiny body, encased with an elegant silk robe of cream and gold, tied with a sash around a tiny waist.
The girl stopped, locking eyes with Babe. She ticked her head toward the toilet and said, “Pull that flusher, will you? Some joker raised the chain too high. Again! Make yourself useful, giant!” Her words might have been harsh and demanding, but her voice was delicate, high-pitched, childlike.
The girl carried her stepping stool over to the sink, climbed on it, and proceeded to wash up. She looked at Babe in the mirror. “Well, hop to it! That toilet isn’t going to flush itself!”
Babe couldn’t “hop” to anything. There’s only one way a giant can stand up. All fours, rear end up, walk hands back, then a final unfold to a stand. She edged into the stall and pulled the toilet chain.
“Reckon you’re that Carlotta folks’ve been talking about,” Babe said, keeping her distance. “They said you was teeny tiny, but I didn’t know you was a midget.”
At this, the girl turned around, her face full of toothpaste, which she spat out on the floor. “I am a dwarf! Not a midget!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Babe offered.
“And I’m not a ma’am, I’
m a miss! But I’m not a child, either. Wish people would get that straight!” She turned back to the sink and swished her mouth with water from the community glass.
“What age do them words change?” Babe asked.
Carlotta cast Babe a confused, cold look reflected in the mirror. “What?”
“When does a miss get called a ma’am? I’m only fourteen, but I get called ma’am sometimes. Reckon it’s my size.”
“Well, I’m only fourteen, too, and anyone calls me ma’am is going to get one of these!” She offered up a fist so tiny, Babe couldn’t help but laugh.
“You mean one of these?” Her own fist was huge.
Carlotta turned, leaned into the counter, looking up at the giant girl with the huge fist. “Yeah. That would work better.”
She put her toothbrush in her robe pocket, picked up her stool, and started for the door.
“My name’s . . .” But Carlotta had already left. “Babe.”
Babe shook her head. A dwarf—as small and dainty as Babe was big and awkward! As beautiful as Babe was ugly! She walked to the window, wondering if maybe she could see where Carlotta had gone. She looked right and left, then took in the beautiful valley below the railroad siding. What a dang miracle! Rain and gray and mud yesterday and now sun and shine and green!
Babe washed up quickly, dressed, and grabbed her valise to discover her first day in the employment of Professor Renoir’s Collection of Oddities, Curiosities, and Delights, wondering which she was going to be.
She stepped down onto the railroad platform. Things in the clearing below were bustling and busy, just like yesterday, only going the other direction. People were bringing back out what just a few hours ago they had put away; rushing here and there, toting, shouting orders and ignoring the giant girl, standing with valise in hand. A hitching post had been erected, and already a few carriages and horses were tied up with curious onlookers standing about watching the hustle and bustle of a carnival breathing to life.
The whinny of a horse brought her head around. She followed the sound toward the end of the train, staying well in the shadows. Some men were leading horses down a ramp and another team was already hitched. Ropes and poles were lying on the ground, not far away, set out in an order of escalating sizes. Huge rolls of canvas were placed between the poles, ready to be pulled back to life as tents.
“Need two more men for the hammer gang! Two tickets for one hour’s work!” a man from the crew called out. Babe watched as a few boys, hands raised, shouting, “Me! Me! Me!,” shoved their way to the man.
Babe held her valise to her chest and watched it all, grinning with the same sense of wonder and excitement she felt in the air. Already the come-hither smell of roasted peanuts and popcorn floated up from a tent below. Then coffee and bacon and maple syrup! Oh, food!
A ruckus from the other side of the train started up. She trotted past the caboose. Trunks, crates, boxes, hay bales, cages, and more people milled everywhere, watching or offering to help.
Another sound. A high-pitched whine this time, more familiar to Babe. A little girl, bawling to beat the band, pointed and cried, “My dolly! My dolly! That monkey took my dolly!” She hit a note so high and hurtful, Babe’s ears rang. “My dolly! My dolly!” Another huge, looooong scream.
Babe stepped around and stopped cold. There was a wagon with a large cage and sitting on top of that cage was . . . was what? Looked like a gorilla but wasn’t gorilla-big like Babe had seen in picture books and heard in scary stories. There was a chain around its neck and it was hooked to a ring inside the cage. The creature was playing with a rag doll.
“You there! Back away! Don’t get too close to him!” a man warned Babe. “He’ll take your face off!” Then he called out, “Someone get a wrangler so that brat’ll shut her pan!” He then tipped his hat toward the mother and added, “All due respect, ma’am.”
The little girl doubled her scream when she saw how Babe towered over her mother. Babe gave the girl an extra-mean look that shut her up and sent her hiding behind her mother’s skirts.
“What is this?” Babe asked the man, nodding toward the creature. “I’m Babe. Going to be a new strong act.”
He tipped his cap. “I’m Vern Barrett, head roustabout.”
Babe indicated the buildings beyond. “Where are we?”
“This jerkwater? Glenns Ferry, Idaho.”
“What sort of critter is this?”
He looked around like he didn’t want anyone, maybe even the critter, to overhear. “This is Euclid. He’s really a chimpanzee, but someone cropped his ears to make him look like a pygmy gorilla. Look close up and you’ll see that’s shoe polish on his face and gray hairs.”
“He looks puny for a gorilla, even a pretend one,” Babe said, trying to catch the creature’s eye.
“They say he was something in his day, but he’s just a shrunk old man now. Bet he don’t weigh more’n a hundred pounds.”
Euclid started chatting with the girl’s rag doll like it was long-lost kin. The little girl’s mother said, “Are you going to get that doll, or do I have to call the authorities? That beast’s a menace and should be put down, the way he went after my daughter’s doll! He might have killed her for it!”
“How’d he get out of his cage?” Babe asked the man.
“Are you kidding? That devil can slip a latch in his sleep. Someone didn’t lock it. Well, it wasn’t me. I hope Renoir doesn’t hear about this. Euclid gets out all the time, but when that kid shook her doll in his face, teasing him and all . . . Between you and me, I don’t blame Euclid. Poor ol’ guy’s been teased at his whole life. You have no idea. . . .”
His words faded away as he looked up at Babe. “I reckon I got a idea,” she said, stepping closer to the cage. “Hey, feller,” she whispered. The creature stopped chattering at the doll and looked over at Babe, his eyes wide and staring. He looked her up and down.
She smiled at him and spoke softly. “What are you gawking at? Ain’t you never seed a giant before? They call me Babe. Look here, want to see a pretty?” She reached into her valise and pulled out her silver hand mirror and held it up. Euclid looked at his reflection and raised his lips in a hiss. He grabbed for it, but Babe held it back and reached for the doll. But he held the doll even closer to his chest now, and hissed again.
“How ’bout we trade?” She offered him the mirror and reached again for the doll. Nothing doing. A third time and a fourth. A crowd had gathered and silenced as the bartering commenced. Finally, trust taking its own sweet time, they swapped on the sixth offer.
Babe tossed the doll to the little girl’s mother, who huffed and scurried away with her daughter. People applauded. Babe ignored them and kept her attentions on Euclid.
“Got me a apple.” She pulled out a half-eaten apple from her pocket and offered it to Euclid. “Want it?” Euclid gave an indifferent sniff but watched the apple out of the corner of his eye. Babe took a small bite, then offered it to him. She felt Euclid’s uneasy, sly glances. “You ain’t never seed a critter like me, have you?”
Slowly, cautiously, he took the apple and, like Babe did, snipped a small bite out of it. There were gaps in his yellow teeth and his old-man breath made her wince. They each looked thoughtfully at each other. Babe did everything Euclid did. He chewed, Babe chewed. He turned his head, Babe turned her head. He scrunched his lips, Babe scrunched her lips.
Someone in the crowd laughed and said, “Look at that! Monkey see, monkey do!”
“You mean, monkey see, ape do!” another man said. “Look at the size of that girl!”
Euclid and Babe ignored the laughter. Euclid hissed at his reflection, and then followed it with some chimp chatting.
“Good luck getting that mirror back,” Vern Barrett said, stepping closer and lighting a cigarette.
“Well, least I got that little brat girl to shut up and go away,” she said, putting her hand out again. “How’s about we trade again, Euclid?” she asked, looking around for something else to t
rade.
“No closer, Babe. This old boy might look like buzzard bait, but he’s strong as a horse.”
“Just like me. Strong as a horse but dull as a ox. Leastwise, that’s what my ol’ man always told me.” Euclid chirped at himself as he made more faces in the mirror.
“Look, whatever you do,” Vern Barrett said, again low and looking around, “just don’t get Renoir involved. Him and this ape are sworn enemies. Oil and water they are. No, gasoline and fire! But if you can get Euclid back in that cage, I’d be grateful.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Vern tipped his hat in thanks and disappeared down off the platform.
Babe looked at the sad and soggy remnants on the bottom of Euclid’s cage, which could use a good wash out.
Another gaggle of children crept around a railcar. They each grasped a bag and left a trail of peanut shells behind them.
Babe lumbered to the boys, standing in front of them, glaring down with hands on her hips.
“Look! A giant!” one cried out. They all took a huge step back.
“Me . . . want . . . pea . . . nuts!” she growled, giving them an ugly, mean face.
She came back to Euclid in no time with three bags, still warm from the roaster.
“Not going to hurt you, boy. How about I comfy you up a bit?” She unhooked the chain from the ring inside the cage. “There. That better?” But he was more interested in the peanut bags peeking out from her coat pocket.
She opened a bag, shook a few peanuts out and tossed them, shell and all, into her mouth. She worked them around, then spit out the shells and tossed them into his cage. “Hmm. Sure is good.”
He looked at the smashed shells, then back at her, giving her what seemed like a look of disgust. So she did it again. “Peanuts for my mirror.” She held a bag just out of his reach. Sure enough, he traded her straight across like two old friends passing the time of day together, one peanut at a time.
“You ready to go back in your cage?” she finally asked, holding the cage door open wide.
He looked at her long and hard, like he was thinking things over. Babe wondered what those old, cloudy eyes might have seen in their lifetime.
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