“Well, she’s different. That car came kit and caboodle with her act.”
“She keeps her elephant in there, don’t she?”
“Well, not really. It’s a duplex car. Half is her personal quarters, the other half is for the elephant,” Rosa explained. “I haven’t been invited inside, but I hear it’s quite posh.”
“But she can visit and talk to her Egypt, can’t she?” Babe asked.
“Yes, there’s a door to her section, but, Babe . . .”
“I want me that, too.”
“Babe, no, I just won’t allow it,” Rosa said, folding her arms.
“Well, that rock-hard privy floor ain’t no fancy feather-piller bed. Let me show you around. See?” she said, turning a full circle around the cattle car. “It’s warm, it’s cozy-some, and it’s big. Alls I had to do was move all them crates and trunks around.” She went to one corner. “This here’s my bedroom.” Another corner. “This here’s my libarry.” She held up the women’s magazines she’d swiped from the ladies’ necessary.
“Babe, no.”
“Criminy, Rosa, I been sleeping in a barn my whole life. I’m used to smells and creaks and drafts. I reckon this cattle car is something of a betterment. Besides, I can take care of Euclid the chimp and that ol’ Jupiter bear who gets put up in here, too. I’ve been feeding ’em, and we’re old friends already.”
“Not that old, flea-bitten bear! Renoir says Jupiter isn’t even worth the price of a vet and is going to have him put down.”
“Put down what for?”
“Infected foot or something.”
“I’m good doctoring critters. Maybe I could . . .”
“Look, Babe, you’re not here to be a wrangler or a razorback.”
“A hog?”
“No, a stooge. Common worker. You’ve been hired as a strong act. You’ve been with us a week.” She tapped Babe’s arm. “So, what’s your act going to be?”
“Renoir says he’s still working on my act. I told him no fat-woman act and he said I’ll be a fat woman if he says so.”
“What does your contract say?”
Babe’s face went blank. “I don’t know. My ol’ man and him worked it all up.”
“Have you even read it?”
“My ol’ man kept it,” Babe said, low and looking down. Reading a child’s poem was trouble enough for her, let alone a contract.
“My dear, you have to . . .”
“Babe, you in there?” Vern Barrett called out from the train platform. “Here’s Jupiter and Euclid. Ready for bed. Just need to hear their prayers and tuck ’em in. Hello, Rosa.”
Vern and a roustabout pushed the two cages inside the car.
“What’s that horrible smell?” Rosa asked as the bear cage went by.
Vern pointed at Jupiter’s right foot, and Babe took a closer look, then said, “It’s all swolt and oozy. It was puffed out yesterday, but now look.”
“Been getting worse by the day. Don’t get too attached to him. Renoir says to put him down as soon as we land in a town with a good skinner so’s he can pick up his new parlor bearskin rug on the return swing.”
“I warned you, Babe,” Rosa said, taking a brief glance, then turning away from the smell. “Poor thing.”
“Any doc in this outfit?” Babe asked.
“Archie, he’s one of the wranglers, he thinks he’s a horse doctor, but he’s afraid of that bear,” Vern said.
Jupiter groaned as he shifted his weight and rolled over. “Got to be something you can do,” Babe said, reaching inside the cage and gently stroking the bear’s thick ear.
Rosa touched Babe’s arm. “He’s in pain, dear. He should be put down.”
“We did get him doped up two days ago, but dang, this ol’ boy’s stronger than he looks, and we just couldn’t hold him down long enough to drain that toe,” Vern said.
Babe turned to Vern. “You reckon he’s stronger’n me?”
Vern and Rosa looked at each other, the doubt in their faces slowly melting into shrugs of Why not try?
“Well, there’s just one way to find out,” Vern said, dashing out the door.
“I think he’s about as drowsy as he’ll get,” Archie said, putting away a huge syringe. “Got to work fast, though.” Babe gently pulled the grumbling bear out of his cage. She sat down and kept his head on her lap. She wrapped her arms about his neck and held the bear tight, whispering in his ears, “Your Babe’s got you. Your Babe’s got you.”
“Careful now. Everyone ready?” Archie said, taking a deep breath. “Hold him tight, girl. Here goes.”
Pus and blood spurted out as Archie dug into the side of the toe. Rosa looked away, and Vern dabbed the incision with cotton. Euclid, in his cage across the car, started screaming. Babe held tight as Jupiter groaned and tried to move. “His paw, hold his paw!” Vern cried.
Babe grabbed Jupiter’s large paw in her own two large paws and fought against the bear’s struggle. “Got it!” Archie said. “Hand me the nippers. Get your hand away, girl!” He snipped away at the long claw, using the horseshoeing tool. The bear’s long, curled claw had a slit down the middle.
“He’s opening his eyes,” Vern warned. “Hurry, Archie.”
“I got him,” Babe said.
“I think I got it all,” Archie said. His forehead was beaded with sweat. “Vern, iodine!” He commanded.
“You or the bear?” Vern asked.
“The bear, you clown!”
Babe kept her arms tight around Jupiter, who let out a muffled roar as the iodine soaked in. “He ain’t so asleep no more!”
“Can you trim those other claws? They’ll just split, too,” Vern said.
“I knew you’d say that,” Archie grumbled. Babe held each foot up while Archie worked fast to trim the claws. She had to lean into Jupiter, putting all her weight against him.
Finally, Babe, Vern, and Archie hauled Jupiter back into his cage. “No wonder it got infected,” Archie said, pointing to the conditions of the cage. “Shut up, Euclid!”
Babe walked to the chimp’s cage and said softly, “Your friend’s okay, Euclid. It’s okay now.”
Just then, the cattle car door crashed open. “What the devil is going on in here?” Renoir demanded. No one said anything. Even the animals grew silent as Renoir stalked around the car. He looked at Jupiter’s lanced foot, at the mess, at each person, and then stood in front of Babe.
Babe wiped a wisp of hair from her face. “We got him all fixed up. Easy as pie.” She smiled and indicated Jupiter’s cage. “He’s going to get right as rain now. Won’t be a rug after all.”
He ignored her. “And under whose authority did you do this?” he demanded, pointing to first Rosa, then Vern, then Archie.
“Well, gosh, Mr. Renoir . . . ,” Vern started. “Putting down that bear would have—”
“Shut up!”
“Really, Phillipe,” Rosa intervened, “we just wanted to—”
“You, too!”
Archie wrapped his tools in a rag, rose, and started to leave. “Collect your pay at the next stop!” Renoir shouted as he left.
Babe’s smile disappeared as Archie left, followed by Vern.
Rosa paused in front of Babe. “Don’t let him bully you. We did the right thing here.” She squeezed Babe’s arm and left, leaving Babe alone and face-to-face with Renoir.
She took a step back. He glared up at her. “And did you have anything to do with this?”
“Held Jupiter down,” she said low. “I don’t—”
“No, you don’t!” he shouted. “Listen, my dear, huge young woman, in my outfit my orders are to be obeyed! Do you understand that?”
“Reckon so, but—”
“There are no buts!”
Euclid had been watching the exchange and, as Renoir paced closer to his cage, reached out with a scream and grabbed for his shoulder. Renoir raised his hand as though to strike back. Another earsplitting screech, followed by Jupiter’s groggy growl.
“Critters
don’t favor yelling,” Babe defended.
Renoir turned on her. “Sit down, you!”
“I like standing,” Babe said, hiding the light from the door and casting her shadow down on Renoir. The truth of the matter was, sitting down was awkward and ugly. It wasn’t as though she could just gracefully sift herself down.
“I said sit!” Their eyes met. She stifled her groan as she folded herself down onto her straw mattress. Dust shot up as she plopped down.
“My orders were explicit! I had something else planned for that animal, and curing him isn’t it!”
Babe wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. “But now he can go back on display and . . .”
“And now he’s going to start eating again. That’s just fine! He was a lot cheaper to keep when he went off his feed.”
“But why?”
“He’s old; he’s decrepit; he does nothing to warrant what I feed him.” He pointed toward Carlotta’s car. “Everyone in this outfit has to pull his own weight! Especially now because that hay-burner elephant is eating me off the circuit! Cuts have to be made, and I’m making them!”
“I can pull his weight!” Babe shouted. “I’m strong!”
“He’s my inventory, and I’ll do with him as I please!”
It was no time to ask what inventory was. She took some deep breaths to crush down her rising beast. “How about . . . um, how about I get him his vittles now? Make sure he don’t eat too much. And Euclid. He don’t eat much, neither, and we can get along on scraps.”
“Ha! I’ve seen you chow down five times a day since you got here.”
“I can scrimp back.”
“Anyway, that’s not what I’ve come to discuss. It’s time you start pulling your own weight here.”
“I can pull my own weight three times over. I’m strong.”
“No, you idiot girl, I mean earn your pay. Everyone in this outfit better earn their pay or they’re gone! I’m not made of money. I won’t put up with spongers who soak up my generosity.”
“You don’t make me into no fat woman,” Babe muttered.
“No, this is a new act. You and Euclid. That ape’s not earning his keep, either. Hasn’t done a thing but take swipes and spit and fart at people for over a year now. Ever since his trainer died.”
“Critters can wear the willow just like folk, I reckon. Had a cat lost her sister. She wasn’t never the same.”
The way Renoir looked at her, she felt as though she had corn growing out of her ears. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Euclid pining after his trainer.”
He cast his eyes to the heavens and sighed heavily. “No, animals don’t have those kind of feelings. Anyway, Carlotta’s convinced me to give him one last chance.”
“Carlotta?”
He headed for the door. “Yes, she said you and that Euclid were two of a kind and would make a great knockabout act. And I have the routine notes from Euclid’s last trainer. Never was much of an act, but Carlotta had some good ideas about how to freshen it up. You and Ernie Evans begin rehearsing tomorrow. Found a siding outside town, and we’ll have a five-day layover, and there’s lots in this outfit that needs fixing, not the least of which is reminding people who the boss is!”
Ernie Evans introduced himself as a “this ’n’ that” man. Sometimes he did this and sometimes he did that—played the horn, cymbals, and drum; helped in the mess tent; barked acts in the ten-in-one sideshow. Babe liked him for his gap-toothed smile and Southern accent. Didn’t make her seem quite so ugly, didn’t make her sound quite so hick-like.
“Reckon I’m an animal trainer today,” he said, referring to the papers Renoir had given him. “Here’s how the chimp’s last act worked.” He held up his right hand. “And these are scribbles from that midget elephant gal.” He looked back and forth at both, screwed up his face. “Okay, says here, your right hand goes to your right cheek when you ask him what’s two plus two and he’ll count—I mean bark—four times.”
He stood in front of Euclid, who was perched on a high stool, uninterested. “How much is two plus two?” Ernie made a very slow and obvious motion . . . his right hand to his right cheek. Euclid spit out peanut shells, sighed heavily, looked away, and yawned.
Ernie tried it again, this time raising his voice. Nothing. “Look, you son-of-a-gun monkey! You do what I’m telling you! What’s two plus two?” Same hand motions; same disinterest. “It’s four, you dummy! It’s four!” He chirped out four arfs, holding up a finger for each arf. “See? Four!”
Babe tried not to snicker at the expression Euclid gave Ernie’s performance. “Let me try. Critters listen to me. Once taught me a squirrel to play dead.”
“Well, Euclid here won’t have to play dead if we don’t get him to obey.”
Babe repeated the question and the hand motions. Still nothing.
Ernie looked at the instructions. “Well, it says here Euclid was born in . . .” His lips moved as he calculated the years. “Heck fire, he’s already thirty-nine. Probably gone senile. Here’s his ballyhoo. Lemme read the pitch . . . get him sort of warmed up.” Holding his hand high, Ernie read dramatically: “‘Here we have Euclid, the world’s smartest pygmy gorilla. So named after the arithmetician Euclid of Alexandria, for his uncanny ability to calculate sums.’”
“What’s that mean?”
“Heck if I know,” Ernie said, scratching his head.
“Renoir said this here’s a new angle on the knockabout act that Carlotta girl come up with for me and Euclid.”
“Look, I have two other acts to frame before we hit Granger, Wyoming, next week, so y’all’ll have to work with him since it’s your act. It’s all writ up here what you’re supposed to say and what Euclid’s supposed to do.” He stuffed the instructions into her hands. “Wishing y’all good luck!”
Euclid watched as Ernie walked away. He sighed, turned to Babe, lifted his lips to expose his yellow teeth. Babe brushed away a bothersome fly from her cheek.
“Arp! Arp! Arp! Arp!”
“What did you say?” She fanned her cheek again.
“Arp! Arp! Arp! Arp!”
“That’s what I thought you said!” She looked at the other notes of hand signals.
Within four days, they were working as a team. They ran a dress rehearsal for the crew, beginning with little JoJo holding up the sign and giggling across the stage, taking long, deep bows.
MONKEYSHINES AT SCHOOL
Babe wore a long black dress, bulging seams, hair in a tight bun—all to make her look the very picture of an elderly, nasty schoolmarm—the sort that girls feared and boys shot spit wads at. Serena, the makeup woman, lined her face with harsh lines and shadows, put white powder on the temples of her hairline, and fashioned a lump of putty for a chin wart complete with a long wire “hair” springing from it. It was the first time Babe was ever someone else, and she loved it.
Euclid wore a little boy’s sailor uniform complete with a cap, tied on with baby-blue ribbons. The stage was a schoolroom with a teacher’s desk, a student’s desk, and a blackboard. The first laugh came from what was on the blackboard: “Miss Higglebottom is a fat cow” with a crude drawing. Euclid sat in the student’s desk while Babe called out questions and used her hand signals. The first few questions were easy, and Euclid performed right on cue, receiving his rewards of fruit slices. Babe’s lines made fun of her size and stupidity . . .
“No, no, two plus three isn’t five, it’s eight.”
“You can’t make a monkey out of me!”
“I’ll sit on you and squarsh you flat!”
The action soon turned to the knockabout brawl Carlotta had suggested with Babe chasing Euclid around the desks with a ruler and Euclid throwing the chalk and erasers and fruit at Babe.
“I’ll get you and you’ll be sorry!” Babe called out. Here, Euclid was trained to stop and start chasing Babe. “Yipes!” Babe screamed, running off stage left and coming back on stage right, chasing Euclid once again.
&nbs
p; Finally, a garbage pail of potato peels was passed through the crowd, encouraging people to get into the act by tossing them on the stage. JoJo came back on with a large conical cap with the word DUNCE painted on it. She handed it to Babe, who sat, forlorn, in the corner wearing the dunce cap while Euclid hopped on the teacher’s desk and ate a banana. The flimsy curtain came down.
Everyone laughed. Everyone except Madame de la Rosa. After the crew cleared, she came up to Babe, the dunce cap still cocked on her head.
“I can’t believe you let Renoir do that to you!”
“Do what?”
“Make fun of you like that!” She pointed to the cap.
“It ain’t real.”
“No, but you are!” Babe picked a long potato skin off her dress and munched it thoughtfully. “Babe! I’m talking to you!”
“Don’t matter about me. Renoir said Euclid had to start pulling his weight.”
“By making a monkey out of you?” She stood, arms crossed, demanding an answer.
Babe looked at the sign for the act leaning on the stage apron. “Ain’t that what monkeyshines is?”
“For Euclid, not you!” She pointed to Babe’s head. “And take that dunce cap off!”
Babe took it off and looked down at it. “Don’t even know what a dunce is.”
Rosa seized the cap and threw it down. “Not you!”
“Sorry you don’t like my act,” Babe said, voice low. She pulled off her fake wart by its wire.
“Well, it’s bound to flop! You’ll fall flat on your face with this gluey act!”
“But Renoir said Carlotta seed a act like this in a other outfit and it knocked ’em bowlegged. I think that’s good.”
“Carlotta? You mean this was all her idea?”
“It don’t make me feel bad, Rosa. Honest. I like Euclid, and him and me get along just fine. I like dressing up, and I don’t want to be no fat-woman act, and Euclid has to pull his own weight. Reckon I’m keeping him alive.”
“What about your strongwoman act? Isn’t that what you were hired for? What about the terms of your contract!”
Babe fiddled with another potato skin in her hand. “Oh, I don’t know about them contracts and such. My ol’ man said they was for menfolk. Hell, Rosa, I’m having a good time. For once.”
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