Bringing Ezra Back (9 page)

Beckwith's expression grew troubled. “Well, if all that's so, what makes you think they're going to let you just walk away with him?”

“I reckon they have to let a free man do what he wants,” I said.

“Maybe so,” Beckwith said. “But what about that rifle you had pointed in your face?”

“They're not going to shoot me in front of a bunch of people who came to see the show. Besides which, you'll be there, too, as a—a what do you call it?”

“A witness?” Beckwith said uneasily.

“That's it! They won't dare to pull any funny business. Then we'll head on out of there with Ezra.”

In my mind the whole thing had already happened, just the way I'd described it. I was so happy imagining Ezra heading with me toward home I guess I didn't notice right at first that Beckwith was backing away from me like I had the pox.

“There ain't no
we
about it, Nathan,” he said in a flat voice. “You've got the wrong fellow. I never signed on to be a witness, or a hero, or to be mixed up in this White Injun affair at all.”

I stared at him as he held up his hands, palms out, almost like he was pushing me away.

“I'm just a businessman trying to make my way through this world, Nathan, and get me a stake of money. I don't need any riled-up, rifle-toting showman chasing after me. So you go on. And don't come running back here if you get yourself in a pickle tonight.” He paused, then added, “I told your pa I'd help you find your friend, and I did, didn't I? So here's where you and I part company. I hope you got no hard feelings about it.”

I shouldn't have been surprised, or disappointed, either. And after a minute or two, I wasn't. Beckwith was only stating the truth of how it was. I was beginning to see that here in the wide world outside our farm, money was real important. To some folks, like Beckwith and Trask, it seemed more important than just about anything.

I shouldered my pack. “I hope you get your stake,” I said. “And don't worry. I won't be back, whether Trask's on my tail or not.”

“I thank you for that,” Beckwith said. “Now, you hold on to what's left of that half eagle.” He gave me his foxy grin and added, “When I get out to your place next time, I'll sell your father them spectacles and get it back. Don't you worry. I'll give him a good price.”

I might have laughed if I hadn't been thinking so hard on Ezra. “Well, I reckon I'll see you come spring,” I said.

“You will,” he answered. Then he added, “Unless I make my fortune by then, in which event I'll put down this confounded pack for good and never lift anything heavier than a crystal goblet.”

I had to smile at that picture. And, strange as it seemed, I was glad to think I'd see Beckwith again. He was surely right when he said he was no hero. But he'd never pretended he was, either.

“In the meantime, I wish you safe travels, young Nathan.”

He put out his hand, and I shook it. “The same to you,” I said. I meant it. Then I turned to leave, my thoughts already moving ahead.

I had a couple of hours before the show began, and I had to decide what to do next. I considered heading to the center of town to ask at a tavern if I could fiddle for a meal. But I decided instead to find a place to sit and settle my mind.

When I discovered an old, overturned hay cart that had been abandoned on the bank of a creek headed to the river, I put my pack underneath. From the look of it, the cart had been there for a while. The wheels had fallen off or been taken by somebody, and the wood was rotted. It was grown over by weeds and vines, and made a nice little hiding place. I leaned against its side and went over and over my plan. I figured that Trask couldn't hurt me as long as plenty of townsfolk were there watching.

The sun got low and I put on my hat. I felt for my knife. Leaving my pack under the cart, where it would be safe and dry, I headed toward the Trasks' wagons. When I drew close enough to see what was going on, I hid in a clump of scrubby brush.

Right away, I saw how the setup for the show would work. Hiram Trask was tying ropes between the wagons and onto nearby trees. Then he hung blankets and sheets of canvas on the ropes so the area between the wagons and the river was closed off from view. People who wanted to watch the show would have to pay before they could step through a flap in the canvas and into the clearing.

It wasn't the way I'd imagined it in my plan, and I had to think fast about what to do. I had what was left of my half eagle, so I had more than enough money to get in. But the Trasks would surely recognize me when they counted out my change.

Folks began to come, gathering outside the half circle of wagons and waiting to be let in. Soon there was a pretty big crowd. Then Hiram Trask swept aside the canvas flap in a gesture so grand you'd have thought President Martin Van Buren himself was about to appear.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he called. “Step right up for admittance to the strangest collection of human oddities, curiosities, and monstrosities ever assembled in history! Be reminded that this show is only for the stout of heart and strong of stomach! Ten cents will get you in the door. After that, brave ladies and gentlemen, you are on your own. Step up now, and have your money ready!”

There was a general commotion as everybody moved forward together, hoping to get to the front of the line. To my dismay, Lovey Trask joined her husband at the entrance, and they began taking folks' money. I'd never get past both of them.

When everybody was inside, Lovey Trask stayed by the doorway, her eyes darting back and forth from the lighted area around the wagons into the deepening shadows outside. I thought she looked right at me, though I knew she couldn't see me where I hid.

An idea was forming in my head. The only way to view the goings-on and get to Ezra was to sneak in under the wagon closest to where I crouched in the brush.

I heard Hiram Trask bellow, “The first attraction tonight is an example of Nature at her most peculiar and mystifying. I present to you, for your edification and contemplation, a person female in most characteristics, yet with the mustache and whiskers of a man. Ladies and gentlemen: Bearded Betty!”

Trask's announcement was followed by loud toots from a tin horn, then gasps of amazement and horror from the crowd. Lovey Trask turned her head to look inside. Before I could think too much about it, I scurried across the open area, flopped onto my belly, and, stealthy as a wildcat, crawled under the nearest wagon. My hat hit the underparts and fell off my head. I lay still between the wheels, my heartbeats pounding in my ears, waiting. Would there be an outcry from someone who'd heard or spotted me? Or would a face—followed by a rifle barrel—appear beneath the wagon bed?

Nothing happened. I could see the shoes and boots of the folks watching, and that was all. Hiram Trask's voice droned on as he invited someone from the crowd to step up and feel Betty's whiskers to prove they were “no trick, but the genuine article.”

I reached for my hat. Snakelike, with the hat in one hand, I slithered on my belly to where I hoped to see the action. Between the shifting legs and bodies of the crowd, I was able to catch glimpses of the platform where Betty stood, her mustache and beard dark brown next to her pale skin, straw bonnet, and yellow dress.

I reckon I was staring as much as anybody. Then a young feller who'd climbed up next to her onstage pulled at her chin whiskers. The crowd cheered, but it seemed to me a shabby thing to do.

Next Trask introduced the Amazing Amelia, who he said was just nine years old and weighed over four hundred pounds. “That's as much as two grown men or four grown ladies.” Murmurs rose from the crowd as Amelia was revealed, sitting on a chair on the platform.

“Looks like her folks didn't know the difference between raising a daughter and a prize sow!” Trask added.

I could see Amelia's face clearly in the lantern light. She was looking off into the distance, as if imagining herself somewhere far, far away. I felt my heart squeeze tight.

Pea-Head Pete was next. His head was real little, which I reckon was how he got his name. It came to a point on the top. His eyes went every which way, and his big, yellow teeth stuck out nearly straight from his mouth. He laughed and laughed when the crowd cheered him, drooling and acting the fool. He appeared dim-witted, but whether it was for real or just an act I couldn't have said.

I felt peculiar lying there watching. I couldn't take my eyes off the stage, but at the same time what I was seeing made my stomach kind of churn, the way it did when I was about to be sick. I couldn't wait for Ezra to appear, and at the same time I dreaded it.

Calvin Edson was next. He stood with a grave dignity while Trask went on and on about his height, his weight, and the length of his bones. In the glow from the lantern his thin, bony face did have the look of a skeleton about it, but his bright blue eyes flickered with life.

When Little Miss Mary came onstage, she sang a song in her small, odd voice. Then folks called out questions and she gave them sassy answers.

“What's your pa look like?”

“Handsomer than you, mister.”

“How about your ma?”

“Almost pretty as me, only not so delicate-boned.”

“You got a husband?”

“You askin' for the job?”

“Sure he is!” someone called.

“Pshaw!” said Little Miss Mary. “He isn't half man enough for a woman like me.”

The folks hooted with laughter, clearly loving every minute. Little Miss Mary laughed, too, which puzzled me some. I was sure it was anger, not merriment, I saw burning in her eyes. I could hear it in her voice, even as she smiled and sassed. It made my skin feel prickly, and I was glad when she left the stage.

Then Trask started in hollering about what was coming up next. “We have saved for last, ladies and gentlemen, the most horrifying spectacle of the show, the man known to us as the White Injun!”

In just a moment, I would see Ezra! I wriggled even closer to the edge of my hiding place.

“This would be the time for ladies and children of delicate constitutions to make their departure,” Trask went on. “For once you have seen this vision of savagery, you'll never be able to banish the sight from your mind!” He paused for a moment and surveyed the crowd. No one moved.

“You've been warned, my friends. What you are about to see is a white man, but do not make the mistake of thinking he is like you or me. No, sir! For this man was stolen from his family at a young age and raised by savage Injuns, and a man raised by brutal savages cannot be other than a beast himself.”

So far, Trask's story was lies, but all I could think of was that Ezra was about to appear. My yearning to see him, to get him away from here and take him home, was so strong I felt my whole body shaking.

The tin horn blew, and Trask said, “When he was first taken as a young child, he begged in his native tongue to be set free to return to his rightful kinfolk, as any poor kidnapped child would do. But his bestial captors could not bear the sound of a civilized voice in their midst. And so they exacted a terrible price, ladies and gentlemen, which you will now witness with your own eyes!”

There was a long silence. Then a figure came shuffling onto the platform, his shoulders drooping and his head hanging low. For a moment I thought this pitiful creature wasn't Ezra, after all. Ezra's posture was upright, and his gait was quick and light. This man appeared weak and frail, where Ezra was healthy and strong.

Then I saw that the man's feet were shackled at the ankles. From my sideways view, I could see that his hands were tied behind his back. From there I could also see Lovey Trask as she came up behind the platform where he stood.

“Look closely, and you will see what the savages did to him when he spoke the language of God and the Bible,” Trask shouted.

Lovey Trask drew out a thin leather strap and snapped it quickly, whipping the back of the man's legs. His head came up to face the audience, and his mouth opened wide. I saw his face and knew right off that it was Ezra, even without looking into the gaping black hole of his mouth where his tongue should have been.

Gasps and moans of horror filled the night. I couldn't stand it anymore. I wriggled out from under the wagon, stood up, and began pushing and shoving my way toward the platform.

People shouted angrily as I elbowed past them, but I didn't care. I reached the show area and faced the platform where Ezra stood.

“Ezra!” I cried. “Ezra! It's me, Nathan!”

His eyes stared straight ahead, and never moved.

“Ezra Ketcham!” I cried again. “It's Nathan Fowler! I'm here to take you home!”

I heard Lovey Trask say a swear word and screech, “What's that boy doing here?”

Rough hands grabbed me from behind, but I shook them off. Quickly I put on my hat and pleaded, “Ezra, look at me. I've got the hat you gave me, remember?” Reaching for my throat, I cried, “And look here. I've got Molly's locket, the one you made her. Ezra, I've come to take you back! Get on down from there, and let's go!”

Still he didn't move.

My outburst had caused a commotion. It was Trask who had grabbed me, and now he gave me a little shove. “See here, son,” he said loudly, still playing to the crowd. “What's all this? You're ruining the enjoyment of all these fine folks. Get along now. You're confusing the Injun with someone else. It's clear to everyone he doesn't know you.”

People joined in, telling me to leave and stop disrupting the show. I took one last despairing look at the platform. The pale, thin figure stood still as a stone. Its eyes were dull and empty. It was Ezra's body, all right. But Ezra wasn't there.

12

DIMLY I HEARD
a high-pitched voice rise above the noise and confusion. “Let the show go on, Mr. Trask. I'll take care of this troublemaker. Pea-Head and Calvin, get over here and give a lady a hand.”