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“Nothing,” squeaked Apollo.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said, which was a lie, although he weighed less than half of me.
“Are you not?” he said. “This lad is.” Mink stepped out of the dark, and Willie shuffled before him, his eyes stricken with terror. Mink held a derringer pistol to his head.
Apollo ducked behind me.
“You may be fool enough to risk your own life,” said Mink, “but I’d bet my last gold dollar you’re too noble to risk this pickaninny’s life. Empty your pockets or I’ll snuff him like a candle.”
Moses ran around the wagon with Miss Lightfoot in tow. They skidded to a halt when they saw us. Miss Lightfoot looked too shocked for me to believe her a conspirator with Mink.
“Me and Willie followed, and the bone man grabbed Willie,” said Moses to me.
I shot him a look, and he lowered his eyes in shame.
“Lazarus,” pleaded Miss Lightfoot. “Let the little boy go.”
“Why should you care, Ruby? Your family kept slaves, did they not? But then, they tried to sell you off like a slave too, didn’t they?”
Miss Lightfoot cried out, “They did not. I went willingly like a lamb to slaughter. You seduced me away.”
Mink laughed. “Only because your bankrupt father asked me for money for you. That’s why I had to romance you and lead you off in the middle of the night.”
She tottered backward and covered her face with her hands. Something ripped. I fancied it Ruby Lightfoot’s heart, but a shape like a sack of potatoes flew though the air and hit Mink in the head. It was Mr. Bopp. He’d somehow escaped his crate prison and torn through the wagon cover. Mink stumbled. His hat went flying. The gun fired skyward, jerked from Mink’s hand, and thumped to the ground. Mink landed on his rump with a scream of rage. Mr. Bopp jackknifed on the turf and tried to reach Mink with his teeth, spitting between each curse.
Customers boiled out of the performance tent like ants, pulling their collars up to hide their faces and looking around for the law. Bonfiglio followed them, craning his neck to see what mischief was afoot.
“It’s Dandy, you fool!” Mink screamed at Bonfiglio. “Stop him!”
“Grab Mr. Bopp and get to the wagon,” I yelled to Apollo.
It took all three boys to wrestle the human torso up and away.
I took off toward the exhibit tent. The bulky form of Bonfiglio pounded my way. I hoped I could toss Tauseret over my shoulder and still outrun him.
I reached the tent. I dug my arms under the mummy and hefted her to my chest. She was stiff again and unwieldy as a log. I staggered and tried to keep my purchase. I’d never get out of the door with her placed this way. I swung her under my arm and almost toppled the jars. Bonfiglio burst through the tent flap, with Mink behind him.
“Give me my money,” Mink cried. Bonfiglio advanced, his fists like hams. I felt Tauseret begin to warm and relax in my arms. I had to get out of there before Mink guessed her secret, but Mink had found his gun. All was lost.
Mr. Ginger came through the other door and found himself face-to-face with Mink. He clutched an oboe in white-knuckled fingers as he edged forward, Ruby Lightfoot timidly shuffling behind him.
“Get back,” I cried, not knowing what Mink would do.
“Pay him mind,” snarled Mink, waving his pistol, and Mr. Ginger froze at the table with the jars.
It may have been deliberate. Miss Lightfoot dodged out from behind Mr. Ginger, lifted the nearest pickled baby, and heaved it at Bonfiglio. Who would have known a lady would have such strength and aim? She hit him in the head. The jar shattered and he fell into Mink, shaking the glass from his bleeding brow and sending the waxy stillborn twins into the face of the showman. Mink howled and covered his eyes. Two with one blow! The air stank of formaldehyde.
“Give me her feet,” cried Mr. Ginger, tucking his oboe under his arm. Did he notice the mummy sagged in the middle and had the weight of a living girl? Together we ran with the mummy as fast as we could, Miss Lightfoot in the rear. I prayed that the second Mr. Ginger wouldn’t open his eyes.
We reached the paneled wagon. I passed Tauseret into the children’s hands. Miss Lightfoot and Mr. Ginger followed her up. I wrestled the creaky doors closed behind them and joined Apollo on the driver’s bench.
As we picked up speed, the children laughed and jeered. I leaned out to see two figures running after us: Mink, waving his arms like a crane fly, and Ceecee, clutching a flimsy wrap and tripping on his ladies’ slippers. Bonfiglio was nowhere to be seen. I thanked the carnal lusts of the absent Billy Sweet. We just might get away.
24
HYAH! HYAH!” I SMACKED THE reins and urged the horses on. Apollo jounced beside me on the driver’s bench. “How far behind do you think they are?” I yelled above the rumbling of the wheels.
“We unhitched the other horses,” cried Willie gleefully from the back. “They’d have to hitch ’em back up.”
