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The sheriff dispersed the townsfolk after the funeral and left the gravediggers to finish their work. We all gathered by the wagons.
“Well, I never gave him credit for his timing before,” drawled Ceecee, “but he went out horizontal in Horizontal.” He giggled, and I glared at him.
“I’m not thrilled to lose one of my acts, Ceecee,” said Dr. Mink. “So shut your trap. Set up the tent, boys.”
I gasped, and even the stoic Al Bonfiglio appeared surprised.
Miss Lightfoot struggled for words, her gloved hands waving in frustration. “We can’t,” she managed with a gulp.
“And lose out on this publicity?” said Dr. Mink. “The town may be a pimple on an elephant’s ass, but we’ve got their attention.”
“Right by the graveyard? Have you no decency?” wailed Miss Lightfoot.
“He was a tro
uper. He’d understand,” argued Mink. His color deepened.
“No, no, no, no,” said Miss Lightfoot. Her voice rose. “I refuse. I absolutely refuse. This is the last straw. No, no, no—”
Mink slapped her. He raised his hand to hit her again.
Mr. Ginger and I raced forward. Bonfiglio blocked my way. Mr. Ginger stumbled and fell. Bess arrived before either of us and kicked Mink in the shin.
“You pig!” the stocky dwarf roared up at him as he hopped on one foot, swearing.
Canvas smacked and a striped torso rolled out of the back of the nearest wagon. Mr. Bopp humped toward Bess as fast as a caterpillar man could.
“You weren’t above ruining her, and now you dare hit her,” cried Bess. She tossed back her veil, the better to aim her bile.
Mr. Bopp reared up like an angry snake at his beloved’s side.
“Please!” Miss Lightfoot begged, but I wasn’t sure if it was Mink or Bess she pleaded with.
“You ruin everyone,” Bess continued. “You enslave the unprotected, take advantage of the needy, steal from the innocent, and harbor fugitives from the law. The only reason I stick with you is so’s I can get to California and find my sister. As soon as I get there, I’m gonna pull foot and leave your sorry show.”
“What do you mean ‘fugitives,’ you crazed dwarf?” Mink rubbed his leg with both hands.
“You know damn well they’d lock him up in New Jersey for slicing that man.” Bess pointed at Ceecee. “If you set another hand on Ruby, I’ll go tell that sheriff, and you’ll be bagged too, for aiding a criminal.”
Ceecee advanced on her, his eyes narrowed, but Mink waved him back.
“Do you think that yokel will believe you, let alone care?” snarled Mink. “And if he does, how do you explain waiting until now to turn me in?”
“Boss, boss,” hissed Billy. “That yokel’s on his way here.”
The sheriff rounded the church. Maybe he’d heard the uproar. He certainly regarded us with distaste. His eyes widened and his lip curled at the sight of the limbless Gunther Bopp. “You forgot this,” the sheriff said, and shoved what I guessed was the death certificate at Mink.
“Sheriff?” said Bess. Would she denounce Mink and Ceecee? Eyes flicked here and there. Glances met. Apprehension. Hope. Fear. “You coming to the show tonight, Sheriff?” asked Bess, her eyes narrowed with guile.
I almost laughed in appreciation.
“Show?” The sheriff looked as aghast as we no doubt had a few minutes before, but he pulled in his belly and stuck out his chest. “There’s no show. We don’t need your kind here parading deformities and stealing washing off the line. You’ll leave town right now while I watch you go.”
I was surprised that Mink didn’t try to charge him for watching us leave.
“You need me,” Mink sneered at Bess as she climbed into the wagon.
For a state that didn’t have a lot of people, Iowa sure had a lot of railroads. We were forever crossing either a track or a river, and every time I had to put my shoulder to a wheel mired in bog, I remembered why a wagon show was sometimes called a mud show. Between the tracks and streams were cornfields everywhere, and on one of our rest stops I gathered some of last year’s corn shucks from a ditch, for I’d had an idea to please Minnie.
