Rosa shook her head. “You have so much to learn.”
Just then, Renoir came to the foot of the stage. “We leave for Granger tomorrow. Make sure that chimp is cleaned up. He reeks to high heaven. Oh, and Babe, I just talked with Carlotta and I think she’s right.”
“About what?”
“You need to make more noise when you fall on your butt that second time. You know, give your fanny a bigger rub when you say OOOOWWW! Give it plenty of ham!”
“Ham?”
“He means act like a bloody fool!” Rosa snapped.
“Yes! That’s it!” Renoir echoed, grinning. “The audience’ll love it!”
Rosa and Babe looked at each other. Rosa shook her head, then turned to Renoir. “Phillipe . . .”
He turned and gave her a chilly stare. “What?”
“Babe’s act isn’t ready for a real audience.”
“We leave for Granger, Wyoming, today after lunch. Her act debuts tomorrow. Eleven o’clock show.”
He turned and walked away, followed by Rosa.
Babe heard someone snickering from within the folds of the tent. She pulled aside the curtain. Carlotta turned with a grin, then walked briskly away, her long black hair swaying pertly from side to side.
8
Madame de la Rosa was wrong as wrong could be. Babe and Euclid’s knockabout act was a big hit. Over the next two months, as new stage business and snappy dialogue was added, as Babe grew more sure of herself, as Euclid fattened on his rewards, as the audience laughed louder, clapped longer, and tossed pennies and nickels now instead of potato peels and apple cores, Monkeyshines at School inched higher and higher on the bill of acts in Renoir’s carnival.
“So, Carlaaaaaaatta,” Renoir said, drawing out her name. “You didn’t do your second number tonight. Are you sick?”
“I think Egypt was off her feed.”
“Oh? Looking at the latest feed bill, I don’t think that was the problem.”
“She needs at least two hundred and fifty pounds of food a day! She’s been getting half that! No wonder she’s feeling weak!”
Babe pretended to be busy with her makeup but kept her eyes on Carlotta in the mirror. Carlotta had barely spoken three words to her since her act with Euclid had taken off so well.
Renoir showed Carlotta a poster. “Here. This is what people are expecting to see.” Babe had seen the posters at every stop. He held it at arm’s length and read, dramatically, “‘Carlotta, the world’s smallest girl! Egypt, the famed elephant of Borneo. Thrills! Chills!’” He tapped the poster and said down to her, “Note it does not say spills!” He went back to reading while Carlotta stood, hands on hips, face reddening. “‘You will be amazed! Never before seen! Not to be missed!’” He ripped the poster in half and tossed it down and added, “I could be arrested for conning the public!”
“Well, in this dinky, cheap disease of an outfit, I am not surprised!” She fingered the lapel of her riding habit. “Cheap clothes, cheap makeup, and that swill you feed us can’t even be called cheap eats!” She pointed outside. “That jig band you call an orchestra is so lousy, people leave just to get away from the cacophony! And what’s the big idea putting her on at the same time? I’m the main attraction! Since when do you have a tacky sideshow act at the same time as the headliner?”
Babe quickly looked away as Carlotta pointed her tiny finger toward her, and she hid her face behind the large powder puff of lamb’s wool.
“If you don’t come up with a better act with that elephant,” Renoir went on, “then you’ll both be playing a tacky sideshow while Babe gets star billing! I have big plans for that big girl!”
Babe felt two tiny, sharp beads of eyeballs boring a hole in her back. Renoir stomped out, leaving just the giant and the dwarf alone in the costume tent. Babe turned around on the barrel she sat upon, opened her mouth to speak, but Carlotta glared at her, turned with a snap, wobbled a bit, and stomped out of the tent.
9
Babe’s monkeyshines act was now promoted on the fliers Renoir’s advance man plastered on trees, fences, posts, and storefronts ahead of the carnival’s arrival into a town. If there was a raise in her pay, Babe wasn’t aware of it. She signed her weekly statement, along with everyone else—food on the train billed against her pay, along with any damages or expenses that might have occurred. Babe and ciphering did not see eye to eye, so she simply signed her chit, cared for her critters, and did what she was told.
They were outside of Laramie, Wyoming, the middle of April. Spring was coming in chilly, but not as chilly as the air between Babe and Carlotta. It was easy for them to steer clear of each other, each living in her own cattle car, each with her own animal, each doing her acts opposite the other. Everyone in the carnie had noticed the giant and the dwarf, total opposites, and now sworn enemies. Babe felt right at home being at such odds, even though she had no idea what she had done to make Carlotta so nasty. Some people were just born that way, she figured. Just about everyone she’d ever known, come to think of it.
Babe and Euclid were getting ready for their act. Euclid, in his sailor-boy costume, delicately picked away at globs of caramel and kernels from a popcorn ball. Babe gave him one before each performance to keep him distracted. She loaded her pockets with the treats he received for his correct answers and bits of business on the stage.
“You ready, Euclid? Good crowd tonight. Rosa said this here’s a cowpoke town and things can get rowdy.”
Euclid gave her a nonchalant look.
“Rowdy means rough and tough—like maybe you was in your youth. Come on. Can’t be tardy for school.”
They walked, hand in hand, in and out of the sideshows, tents, and seating areas toward the two main stages, now set up back to back. No doubt Carlotta was leading Egypt from their train car about now. Both acts started at eight, ten cents a seat.
“Wait up, Babe!” Rosa called out. She attached a sign to her gaudy, multicolored tent.
MADAME DE LA ROSA IS IN DEEP MEDITATION
AND WILL RECEIVE GUESTS AT NINE.
Babe grinned at the sound of coins jingling as Rosa trotted toward her. “Making good ookus?”
“Goooood ookus!” Rosa smiled as she brought out a handful of coins from her pocket. “There’s no dupe like a just-paid-cowboy dupe. Here’s some advice. If you can, play to the crowd tonight. Cowboys and their money are soon parted. Remember, Renoir can’t keep track of your tips!”
“Okay. Euclid’s all set,” Babe said, lifting the ape and holding him to her hip.
“Have a good show,” Rosa said. “I’ll be watching!”
“Ain’t going to see what Carlotta’s been working on? I hear she’s got her a new routine.”
“I might pop over and take a peek after I go ‘meditate.’” She winked at Babe as she headed off.
Rosa had been right—this crowd of rowdies laughed louder, clapped longer, and hissed and cheered more than most. Babe loved the part when someone would shout something and she’d go to the end of the stage, look mean, whack her ruler in her hand—the meanest of all teachers—and growl all the warnings her teachers had growled at her.
Zap! Something had zinged across her stage and hit the blackboard behind her. Euclid was on the stool next to the desk. He whirled around and looked, too. There was laughter from the back of the crowd but the torchlight was too bright along the edge of the stage for Babe to see anyone beyond the first few rows of seats.
Pang! Something else flew by. The crowd howled as Babe, serious now, shaded her eyes and looked for the rabble-rouser. Two more! Bam! Zing! Whap! Euclid screeched and grabbed his arm. He jumped off the stool and screamed his rage, showing his long, yellow fangs. Babe quickly scooped him up, but enraged, he pounded on her. People in the front row got up and moved back. There were cheers from the back rows.
“Euclid! Quiet!” Babe said, holding his jaw shut to keep him from biting her. Several more rocks pelted them, hitting both Babe and Euclid in the face and head. Babe’s hand went to
her forehead and she lost her grip on the struggling, screaming Euclid. He jumped down and ran off the stage and into the darkness.
Total silence. Babe jumped down off the stage, fire in her eyes. “Who done that?” she demanded of the crowd. People parted for her as she stalked toward the back, overturning benches and folding chairs and tossing them aside as if they were nursery playthings.
“Who done that?” she hollered again. One by one, people swept aside as Babe stalked through the area. There at the back stood a young man, a slingshot dangling from his hand. Babe felt it rise, her beast within the beast.
She towered over him. She snatched the slingshot from his hand. The man was turning to go, but she yanked him around by the arm. “How come you done that?” she growled.
“Aw, come on, he was just sportin’ you,” another young man said. His smell, his stance, his dare reminded her of her father.
She felt blood trickle down her cheek and ignored him. “How come you done that?” she demanded again. “We wasn’t hurting you none.”
He laughed, and Babe put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He yelled and crumpled to his knees. She kept her grip on him. “Why?”
“Someone paid me! Said it was just a joke!” he eked out. “Come on, let up! That hurts!”
She yanked him back to his feet and pulled him up to her nose. “Who paid you?”
“Put me down and I’ll tell you,” he said, coughing.
She dropped him down. He adjusted his collar and rubbed his shoulder. “It was that teeny-tiny person,” his buddy said for him.
Babe’s jaw tightened. “What teeny-tiny person?”
“That midget. The one with the elephant!” the man said. “Honest. She said it was part of the act. I didn’t know it would—”
“Well, it did! Gimme a rock,” she said, holding out her hand. “Someone gimme a rock!” she hollered.
His buddy handed her a rock. Babe loaded the slingshot and drew it back two feet.
“Hey, you’ll kill him!” someone said.
“What are you going to do . . . ?”
She shot the slingshot just past the man’s ear, then tossed the slingshot far off into the night.
Babe looked at his friend and said, “How much did she pay him?”
“A dollar,” he said, backing away.
Again, Babe held out her hand. “Gimme!”
The man quickly complied. “There. There’s a dollar. Come on, Willy. Let’s get the hell out of this freak show!” They gave her a dirty look and left.
Babe went to her cattle car to check on Euclid. Sure enough, there he was in his cage, shaking and whimpering to himself.
“Your Babe’s got you,” Babe said softly, petting his neck and back. “That man got tooken care of.” There was blood trickling down his face and he kept running his hand over his shoulder, crying softly.
She tended his wounds, wrapped a bandage around her own bleeding forehead, fed Euclid, then went back out.
She stood in front of Egypt’s ramp, waiting, watching the people in the carnie below douse lights and slowly make their way back to the train. The last of the audience and revelers mounted their horses or clucked their teams and drove off toward town.
The huge shadow of Egypt approached, and Babe stepped into the light. Carlotta startled but quickly straightened and kept walking.
“Heard you put on quite a show tonight,” Carlotta said, not looking at Babe as she walked Egypt to her ramp.
“Reckon you’ll want this back.” Babe tossed down the dollar bill. It landed at Carlotta’s feet. She stopped. Egypt rambled inside her car.
Slowly, Carlotta looked up. Her smug smile faded when she noticed blood oozing from Babe’s forehead bandage. “Look, those two rubes were . . .”
“Don’t you never talk to me!” Babe growled.
Babe knew if she stayed there any longer, the beast would continue to rise. She turned and disappeared into the darkness, revenge on her mind.
“You didn’t!” Rosa said, her hand hiding her smirk. “Tell me you didn’t!” Babe and Rosa were having coffee in the mess tent before they were pulling up stakes a few days later.
“Don’t you tell, Rosa. Promise?”
“Well, damn,” she said, laughing. “The little snot’s had it coming.”
“Don’t think I’ll ever get poor Euclid back on that stage, so you’re doggone right she’s had it coming!”
“But really. How did you . . . ?”
“Ssshh. Here she comes,” Babe said, pulling an apple pie closer for another slice.
Carlotta walked into the tent, wearing a baggy cotton dress—a far cry from her usual fashionable wardrobe. She paused at a tent post, backed into it, and scratched her back, up down, down up. Her face and her bare arms were nearly covered in a thick white paste.
Rosa and Babe had to look away to keep from breaking into laughter.
Carlotta walked over to them. Rosa composed herself and said, “My, my Carlotta. What have you gotten yourself into?”
“Just came over to tell you thank you again, Babe, for your peace offering. The bouquet of flowers was just lovely.”
Babe laughed out loud. “Glad you liked ’em.”
“Especially the brush clippings. Made a lovely arrangement.”
“Flowers always make me smile,” Babe said, grinning ear to ear.
“I saved a little sprig for you.” Carlotta tossed down a paper sack. “With my compliments.”
She turned and left, awkwardly trying to scratch the middle of her back.
“Don’t touch that,” Rosa said. “If it is what I think it is.”
Babe opened the sack and pulled out a bright orange, three-leafed cutting. She ran it along her arms and face.
“Babe!” Rosa shouted.
Babe smiled at her and said, “Ain’t never once had poison oak give me a lick of itch.”
10
Babe got her revenge, but she lost her act. Euclid was not just physically hurt during the slingshot incident but frightened beyond forgetting. He refused to even let Babe dress him in his sailor-boy outfit, let alone go on the stage for their act. For the next several stops, Babe was without an act, which made her angrier at Carlotta. Never once did she apologize. But it was a chilly comfort that Carlotta was also without an act until her poison oak rash calmed down. And never once did Babe apologize. So the get-even pranks would continue until someone cried uncle.
Eventually, Carlotta returned to her act, nose held high, once again the headliner, and Babe was told to turn in her schoolmarm costume and report to Serena, the wardrobe woman.
“Don’t boo-hoo to me about it. Renoir said make do and piece something together out of wardrobe, and that’s just what I did,” Serena said. Babe was unsure how old the woman was—whatever years behind her were covered up with heavy stage makeup and red hair dye. “Suck it in.” Serena was short to begin with, and standing on a stool next to Babe didn’t help much. She slapped Babe’s back. “I said, suck it in!”
Babe gulped down air and held it while Serena pinned some seams together. “You grow much more and I don’t know what we’ll do. Don’t want you to become a hoochie-coochie act,” she mumbled around a mouthful of pins.
“A what?”
She took three pins out and splayed them between her fingers. “Ina, Mina, and Tina?”
“Oh. Them dancing girls.”
“Those dancing girls.”
“What girls we talking about?”
“Oh, Babe, hold still.”
“Air’s hot up here,” Babe said, picking out the smells of moldy canvas and Serena’s perfume mixed with something else. “Mighty whiffy up here, too. What’s that smell?”
“Rabbit. Very, very dead rabbit. Well, the skins of the rabbits,” Serena said. “There. Turn around.” She stepped across the tent to take in her handiwork. “Quit scratching, and I warn you, one good sneeze and the whole shebang will come undone.”
“Can I look yet?”
“Go ahead. Yo
u’ll find out sooner or later.”
Babe walked to the full-length mirror. Working from her feet up: her old men’s boots now covered with sheepskin gaiters, legs and arms covered in the stretchy body suit. About her middle and over one shoulder were Serena’s very, very dead rabbit skins dyed with spots to look like leopard.
“Reckon there’s lots of lucky rabbit feets running around out there,” Babe mumbled.
“Here. Chew this up,” Serena said.
“What is it?”
“Black Jack gum. It’s part of your costume. And while you’re mawing that . . . no, all the pieces! Undo those braids and let’s see your hair.”
Babe chewed and unwound her braids and fluffed out her hair. Serena got back on her stool and took a brush to Babe’s curly auburn locks.
“Ow. That hurts. What’re you doing?”
“It’s called ratting.”
Babe scratched her scalp. “I can see why.”
“Sit down,” Serena ordered. They looked at the skimpy folding chair, so Serena pointed to a sturdy costume trunk. Serena brought over a tray of makeup and started to blot Babe’s face.
“Never noticed before, but you have very pretty eyes. Such a pretty blue,” Serena said.
“Some folk say I got evil eyes, devil eyes.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” she muttered, working on Babe’s eyebrows. “High cheekbones are an asset to some women. Think maybe Mother Nature overdid yours. And that jaw.”
“Mother Nature overdid everything on me. ’Cept these,” Babe said. “My chests.”
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Got the curse yet?”
“Been cursed my whole life.”
“You know what I mean. Your monthlies. Got ’em yet?”
“Little here. Little there.”
“Well, the chests come full on when the monthlies come full on. One day soon you’ll wake up and BOOM! Chests galore!”
“For real? Overnight?” Babe asked, her face full of wonder.
“Well, it can seem like that. Your ma never told you all this?”
Professor Renoir's Collection of Oddities, Curiosities, and Delights Page 7