“Got a lady friend waiting back in town,” Sol whispered up to her while circling her, fists raised. “So hurry it up, will ya, Babe?”
“Sure thing, Sol. I’m in a hurry myownself,” Babe said. “Hang on.” She picked him up, circled around, then tossed him into the straw pit before he’d landed even one punch. He quickly bounced back up and winked his thanks before running off.
Now for the five real challengers. It was easy to pick out the young rubes right off the farm, the just-paid cowboys on the town, the drunk lumberjacks, and the occasional dude, out to impress his lady friend. She ducked their fists, turned and kicked them in their behinds, and held them at arm’s length, leaving them helpless to reach her with their wild swings. The more the crowd laughed, the madder and madder her challengers got. Babe looked bored, yawned, looked at her nails, as though wondering what to do with this helpless pest.
Out they went, one, two, three, four.
Then, there he was. Next in line. “Pa,” she whispered. He grinned up at her. He must know I could kill him easy as look at him, she thought, glaring back down at him.
“Our last challenger is somewhat of a local celebrity! Arthur Killingsworth, mayor of Neal, Idaho. Lucky you, Mayor. I can tell Magnifica is tiring. So, Magnifica, how do you feel about politicians?” The crowd laughed. He gave Babe a threatening glance, then said down to Killingsworth as he stepped forward, “Perhaps you will be the one to topple the great Magnifica!”
Babe’s thoughts ran wild. Why should the fifty dollars Renoir owed this Mayor Killingsworth have anything to do with her? Maybe she should pull a double-cross and let them both square off in their own fight. Did she want to throw her old man down and squarsh him flat? Or throw him clear out of the ring? Or just pick him up by the neck and watch the daylights drain out of him? Whatever she did, she’d best do it now. Her father was stepping forward.
He climbed the platform and slipped through the ropes to great applause. He bowed to the crowd, then took off his suit coat and handed it to Renoir. With great deliberation, he rolled up his shirtsleeves, loosened his tie, and tossed off his celluloid collar. The referee introduced them and gave the usual rules. They didn’t shake hands, speak, or take their eyes off each other.
He raised his fists and approached her. She backed away, the crowd hissed and booed, emboldening him. His smile widened and he danced around her, then slapped her arm, and swatted toward her face, which was still head and shoulders above his. More boos from the crowd.
“Babe,” Vern whispered up at her. “Put him away!”
Killingsworth punched her hard and she grabbed her side, looking down at her father with disbelief. “Come on, girl!” he taunted, delivering more hits. “You know you’ve wanted to land a good one on me all your life!”
Still, she didn’t fight back, and his courage grew. Was she going to take the fall or was she not able to hit her father? One! Just one solid hit! Put him away! But each time her fists rose, he’d slap her again and her fists came down. Could she? Would she? Several times she nearly stepped out of the circle on the mat. The crowd booed her and cheered her father. Agony!
“One minute!” Renoir called out with the ring of the bell.
More swipes, more kicks, more humiliation. Around and around the ring.
“Thirty seconds!”
“This ain’t like you, Babe!” Vern muttered beneath his breath. “Do something! Rib-roast him!”
The spectators now crowded around the ring, calling out bets, cheering, booing, cheering.
Another hard blow to her side. It was as though the hit knocked an idea into her! She knew what to do with only seconds to go! She reeled back like she’d been shot, then twirled about. Another hit. She roared and fell backward, as only a giant can fall. The crowd went wild. She stayed down outside the circle and rolled like she’d been thunderstruck.
Vern knelt down. “Babe! Show him what for! What are you doing? Get up!”
The spectators were pointing and laughing at her. Her father, like the biblical David declaring victory over Goliath, took a tour of the ring, his hands clasped high and wagging back and forth.
Others in their troupe watched, mouths open, eyes wide, shaking heads in disbelief.
The final bell gonged. Renoir flew into the ring and held the victor’s hand high. He shouted above the noise of the crowd, “This man! This man is the first, the only man, to have knocked down Magnifica, Queen of the Amazons!”
Renoir counted ten . . . twenty . . . thirty . . . forty . . . fifty dollars into her father’s hand. The crowd counted with him, delighting in Babe’s defeat. She remained still but opened her eyes. Lotty was standing on a chair, her tiny nose just over the boxing-ring floor.
“Babe!”
Babe gave her a small smile, followed by a big wink.
Killingsworth and Renoir helped each other out of the ring like they were old chums, laughing and slapping each other’s backs. The crowd dispersed, the torches doused, leaving Babe in the dark. Lotty scrambled into the ring. “Babe, are you hurt?”
“Feel right as rain,” she answered, sitting up.
“But you went down so hard.”
“Never felt better.”
“Renoir’s going to take that fifty dollars out of your pay, you know! Just when we need the money more than ever!”
“How come if you’re the brains of our outfit you never once thought of this?” Babe said, rubbing her side.
“What?” Lotty’s face was a puzzle.
“Sure, I take a fall with a challenger, then we split the prize money.” Her smile grew wider. “Ain’t nothing wrong with taking this act a little sideways.”
“A con? But that would be . . .”
“A flimflam!” Babe said, breaking her off. “Just like you in a baby carriage, only I’m the baby and this here ring is the carriage!” Babe said, putting her head back and laughing.
Lotty stepped back and scrunched her face. “Huh?”
“Sure! Find us our own fakers each coupla shows. Any yokel’d love twenty-five dollar! And he can brag the rest of his life what he done!”
“You’re crazy!”
“Wait and see the kind of crazy your ol’ Babe is.” She grabbed the ropes and pulled herself up.
“Wait a minute, Babe!” Lotty followed her out of the ring. “I don’t get it.”
“You will.”
“Where are you going?”
“Right now I got me one more round coming.”
“Babe . . .”
But she disappeared into the smoky, steamy night. She figured her father would be celebrating his big win in the beer gardens.
“So, Babe, I see you’re doing damn good for yourself,” her father said, stepping out of the shadows.
Babe whirled around.
“I got to say, when I heard this chintzy show was coming again, I was just tickled to death. Renoir and me had some old business to settle. You remember.”
“I remember.”
“So, I thought why not just take a trip and see ol’ Babe? Or do you want to be called Magnifica?”
“You forgot my given name is Fern?”
He stood back and took her in full. “God, I could swear you’ve grown, and it’s been, what? Only five months? Yessir, I’d say this life agrees with you.” He pointed to her hands. “Look at the size of those meat hooks!”
Babe thought of the Big Bad Wolf’s line to Little Red Riding Hood—All the better to choke you with.
She spotted his winnings sticking out of his shirt pocket, like five green tongues taunting nah-nah nah-nah-nah at her. She walked closer. He took a step back. There were stacks of baled straw behind him. He took another step back but stopped when he hit the bales.
“Now, Babe,” he warned. “You don’t look at me that way, girl!”
Putting her arm against his chest and pinning him easy, she one, two, three, four, five, plucked out the fifty dollars he thought he’d just won.
“Oh, come on, daughter.”
&
nbsp; If there was one thing she could read, it was fear in someone’s eyes. “Don’t you never call me daughter.” She felt that bubbling rage inside and clamped her jaw to keep it down. “And gimme your wallet.”
“Babe!”
She pushed him again. Did he realize if she brought her arm up sharp, fast, and hard, she could snap his neck like a chicken wing? “Wallet!”
Slowly, his hand went down to his pants pocket. He pulled out a tattered but fat wallet.
“I reckon this’ll cover my expenses.” She slipped the wallet into her belt.
“You can’t . . . rob your own father!” he tried, reaching for breath under the pressure of her arm.
“You ain’t no father to me any more’n I’m queen of the Amazons!” she said, stepping back and staring down at him. He made a grab for his wallet, and before she could get her calm back, she gave him a hard shove, sending him back and crash! Heels over the hay bales!
She walked away, smiling, knowing there was nothing he could do. No man alive would admit he’d been robbed, then “put away” by his own daughter. Even a daughter who’s a giant.
“Okay, Babe. What’s this all about? I haven’t seen you grin like that since . . . well, since never!” Lotty said as Babe climbed into her cattle car.
“Saving things makes me smile,” she said, tossing peanuts into Jupiter’s and Euclid’s cages.
“Huh? Who did you save?”
“Us. You, me, Euclid, Egypt, and Jupiter. I saved us.” She pulled out the wallet and let the bills swish down where they piled up on the floor.
“Babe! Tell me you didn’t rob someone! That man? That old man who floored you in the fight?”
“I just got back what was owed me.” She ran a wet towel over her face, pulling off makeup and smearing her long, dramatic “scar.”
“That man? He owed you? You knew him? What? How?”
“Yep. But we’re square now.”
Lotty picked up the money and began counting it. “Babe! There’s over three hundred dollars here!”
“Oh. I forgot.” She pulled out five moist tens she’d stashed in her outfit. “Sorry they’re so whiffy. I sure work up a sweat these days.”
“I still can’t believe it, Babe. How did that man owe you money?”
“It’s money he don’t never have to spend on my schooling, my clothes, my comforts, and . . .” Her loud laughter caused Euclid to imitate it back. “And my wedding, if I can ever find a man big enough to marry me!”
Lotty stared at Babe, her mouth and eyes wide-open. “Babe, are you saying that man was your . . .”
“My ol’ man,” Babe said for her. Then, grinning to beat the band, she added, “We don’t look alike.”
20
With the cattle car doors open to the stifling, midmorning heat, Babe stood marveling at the two colors passing by—ripe yellow fields under the bright blue of a cloudless sky. The train slowed down, switched to a siding, and came to a halt. In the distance, she could make out the town . . . the redbrick of the buildings, stark white of the church steeples, and the sparkle of a river meandering through. The latest schedule of stops was tacked to the wall.
“Pen-dle-ton, Or-e-gon,” she sounded out. “In-de-pen-dence Day . . . What do you think of that, Jupiter?” she asked the bear. He leaned into his cage for his ritual ear-scruffing. Euclid leaned into his cage for some attention. “I see you, Euclid,” Babe whispered, handing him some peanuts and cracking a few herself. “Maybe someday we’ll get us some of that independence. You think? Could be. Maybe.”
“Babe!” Lotty called up from the track below. Egypt stood next to her, swaying, ears flapping. “Are you up?”
“Been up all night. Hard to sleep in this heat.”
“I know.” Lotty fanned her face. “Can you come with me? Poor Egypt needs some water. She’s parched and sure could use a bath.”
“I can see a stream over there, in town,” Babe said, pointing. “Long walk in this heat.”
“There’s a water tower on the other side of the train. Hurry. People are already arriving.”
Babe quickly tossed some apples and a handful of oats to Jupiter and Euclid, then jumped down to help Lotty with Egypt, who seemed to sense water was in her future. People were already lining the track to see what wonders the carnival had brought to their town. They were rewarded with the odd sight of a dwarf, a giant, and an elephant walking toward the water tower.
It wasn’t the first time the girls had arranged a shower for the elephant. Water towers for trains were always perched high up on stilts and had a glorious long waterspout that could swing back and forth, creating a waterfall of pleasure for the elephant.
“That’s some tower,” Lotty said, shading her eyes as she looked up. “Looks brand-new.”
“Bet it holds a million gallon,” Babe said. The waterspout was shiny and glistened in the sun.
“Look at that.” Lotty pointed to the crowd of people walking from the station toward them. “It’s like they can smell an elephant coming!”
“Well, how often do them folk get to see the likes of us and a elephant taking a bath?”
“Say,” a man called out, approaching them. “What’s going on here?”
“Oh. Do you work here?” Lotty asked.
“I’m the yardmaster and . . .” His words trailed off. “Say now, that’s an elephant!”
“Thought we’d give the folks a little show,” Lotty said. “How about you let us water the elephant?”
He took his cap off, looked up at Babe, down at Lotty, and then over to Egypt. “Sure, I guess, I mean, yeah why not? Don’t get folks like you in these parts very often!”
Lotty pointed to the large iron cuff around Egypt’s back leg. “Babe, watch that rope on her cuff. It’s getting tangled,” she said.
Babe pulled the rope clear of the tracks where it had caught on something. “Ready?” the yardmaster called, his hand on a lever. The spout swung around and the water began to flow into a holding pond at the side of the tracks. Kids sat on fences and baggage carts to get a closer look. People ran from the station and lined the tracks.
“Woodrow! Get down from there!” a woman called out from the distance. She stepped forward, her parasol bobbing over her head.
Egypt stood under the pouring water, her eyes closed, her tail twitching with joy. The holding pond filled under her and she pulled in a trunkful of water and showered her back, sending muddy splatters over Lotty and Babe. The crowd laughed and clapped.
“Woodrow!” the woman called out again, her voice rising above the sound of water gushing and people laughing. “Get down from there this instant!” She snapped her parasol closed and pointed it up to her son. “I said now!”
Babe looked up. The boy had climbed onto the top of the water tower. The distinctive smell of a sulfur match hit both girls at the same time.
“Babe!” Lotty screamed, pointing up. Woodrow was lighting a string of firecrackers. He tossed them down and they exploded midair. Bangbangbang! right above Egypt’s head.
“Hold, girl!” Babe called out. Egypt pulled back and bangbangbang! More fireworks rained down.
People must have thought it was part of the act, and they applauded. Then the crowd silenced when Egypt let out a deafening trumpet of fear.
“Whoa, Egypt!” Lotty screamed, as though her tiny voice and stance could stop the elephant, pulling against the rope. “Babe! Help!”
Even Babe was helpless against a frightened elephant. The rope grew taut, then caught on something.
“Get her free!” Lotty called out, pointing to Egypt’s cuff.
“The rope’s stuck! We need a ax! Someone get a ax!” Babe hollered, following the rope under the water. She pulled but it was stuck around one of the pillars holding the water tower.
People edged back; parents pulled children closer to them; a few men came forward; Woodrow’s mother screamed louder.
“Easy, Egypt!” Babe whispered. The tauter the rope, the more the elephant protested, screech
ed, and pulled back. More fireworks in the background added to the chaos; people screaming added to the fear. “Let ol’ Babe help you,” Babe said, her face close to Egypt’s eye, her voice low and calming. But she recognized that look, that fear in Egypt’s eye. “I’m here. Your Babe’s got you. Easy, girl, easy.”
A train whistle screeched in the distance. Egypt cried out again and pulled even harder. Crack! The pillar snapped in two and the water tower began to lean.
“Mama!” the boy cried out, trying to grab on to something, anything, as the tower tilted even more.
Finally, the rope snapped off and Egypt ran free toward the safety of her railroad car.
Another deafening crack! Babe stepped back. Woodrow was now dangling off the top of the tower. People screamed, but no one did anything as the water began to spill out and over Woodrow.
With a final groan of surrender, the tower shifted—the gush of water, the crack of wood, the crunch of metal! The water cascaded, spilling wood and Woodrow twenty feet below. Babe and Lotty ran back as the water flooded down.
“Woodrow!” the mother screamed, coming to the wreckage and wading through the filled-up gully. “Help! Help!” Her skirts quickly weighed her down and she struggled to stand. “My boy is under there!”
Babe looked around. A frantic search through the planks of wood, the water, the beams, the crushed metal. Then, a little hand popped up from under the water.
“Here!” someone called. “He’s pinned! Over here! Help!”
“Oh God, someone help!” the mother called out.
Babe rushed into the water, feeling below the surface for the beam. She found it, stood astride, leaned down, gripped it, and grunted. The boy’s hand flailed.
Babe held her breath. Legs, Babe, use your legs!
Professor Renoir's Collection of Oddities, Curiosities, and Delights Page 12