Midnight Mystery: 4 (Winnie the Horse Gentler) (3 page)

We’d reached the back of the big circus tent. Catman nodded to a burly guy guarding the entrance, and we walked on in.

Spotlights shone on three dirt rings, but only the center ring looked busy. Two huge men moved pedestals around. A girl in a glittery swimsuit swung on a rope hanging from the top of the tent. From a high platform, a man pushed a swing, then grabbed it.

From the far side of the ring one of the clowns waved at us.

“Far out, Barker!” Catman shouted.

“Barker?” I squinted at the clown until I could see Barker under the orange wig, painted face, and red clown nose.

We hurried across, dodging a tumbling clown, a juggler, and two beautiful white horses. Just as we got there, Barker’s parents and brothers came running up, half of them munching cotton candy.

“You look great, Barker!” I punched the puffy sleeve of his green-striped clown costume. His tightly curled black hair peeked out from under the wig.

“Pray for me, Winnie!” Barker pleaded. “I haven’t had much time to practice my act.”

I liked that Barker wanted me to pray for him. He knew I had trouble talking to God, that I wasn’t good at it like his family or my sister. So I shot up a quick prayer right then, thinking it was pretty cool to be able to talk to God anywhere, even at a circus.

Barker’s brothers and their dogs crowded around him. I glanced at the exit and saw Ramon and Midnight just outside. I couldn’t help feeling sad. Losing my mother had been the worst thing I could think of. But at least I wasn’t an orphan like Ramon.

“You should be proud of your young joey here!”

I recognized the voice I’d heard outside yelling for Ramon. I turned to see a tall man in a red tuxedo and shiny black boots that came to his knees. His thick, gray hair had plenty of black left in it. The Colonel looked at home in his outfit, and it was easy to picture him leading men into battle in World War II.

“He’s not
Joey!
He’s Eddy!” Matthew snapped.

“A joey is another name for a clown, isn’t it, Colonel?” Mrs. Barker asked.

“Intelligent as ever, madame!” said the Colonel. He turned to Mr. Barker’s mother. “And how is the charming Granny Barker?” Colonel Coolidge bowed low, took her hand, and kissed it. She let him, and I think her eyes twinkled.

“Told you,” Catman whispered. “He digs her.” He raised his voice. “Colonel, Winnie. Winnie, Colonel Coolidge.”

The Colonel clicked his heels together and did a stiff bow. It would have been hard to invent two people less alike than Catman and his great-grandfather. The Colonel was military-stiff, Catman rubbery. Where the Colonel was loud and blustery, Catman was soft and still. As a horse, the Colonel might have been a Maremmano, a classical Greek warhorse descended from sixteenth-century Spain. Catman was a Peruvian Paso, a smooth and steady breed with a weird gait kind of like swimming.

“I like your circus,” I said, amazed at how dumb I could be talking to people. Give me horses any day.

“The circus is in my blood! I have the honor of being related to Colonel William Frederick Cody, known as Buffalo Bill, the world-famous Wild West hero. Calvin here might have followed in those footsteps.”

I tried not to grin. Only Catman’s parents, and I guess his great-grandfather, call him Calvin.

The Colonel tapped his perfectly polished boots with his ringmaster’s whip. “Calvin’s father, I am sad to say, never showed promise as a circus man. He lacked the discipline! Refused to polish his boots before bed.”

“Winnie’s a horse gentler,” Catman announced.

The Colonel eyed me up and down. I felt my spine straighten, like I was under military inspection. “Do you live in Ashland?”

I nodded.

“Have you a horse?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Excellent!” the Colonel boomed. “Then you shall join our Ashland troupe and fill in as a greeter. Always a need for towners as greeters!”

A picture flashed into my mind—me, about seven or eight, screaming at Dad that I would run away and join the circus. “I don’t think my dad would go for it.” Part of me wanted to say yes. Nickers would be so great. But the last circus performance was the same night as Mom’s birthday. “And we have plans for Friday. Thanks anyway, though.”

“Think about it!” he roared. “Kings and queens have honored the circus with their presence! And on our last performance of the year, some of the greatest fighting men in history will be there looking on!”

Catman explained. “The Colonel’s army buddies get together every five years for the last show of the season.”

Colonel Coolidge bowed again. “My offer stands.” Pivoting toward center ring, he bellowed, “Not there, you goober!” Under his breath, he muttered, “Roustabouts!”

When he stormed off, I felt my muscles relax again.

Catman and I sat with Granny, Mrs. Barker, Matthew, and William, while Mr. Barker, the other boys, and their dogs went with Barker.

I watched the greeters and imagined doing the same things with Nickers. A blonde girl about Ramon’s age and someone who could have been her mother led beautiful white Lipizzaner horses around the ring, stopping to chat with groups in the bleachers or people straggling in.

“Gabrielle LeBlond and her mother,” Catman said. “Horse acts.”

The Colonel blew a whistle, and five minutes later he marched to the center ring and took off his top hat. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Colonel Coolidge’s Traveling Circus!”

Trumpets and trombones played circus music. Drums pounded as performers paraded around the rings. Gabrielle and her mom, dressed in white formals, rode their Lipizzaners sidesaddle. Behind them marched a short man cracking a long bullwhip. Then came a stream of clowns, trapeze artists, an elephant, a camel, and on and on.

“Catman!” A chubby clown hollered up. He tossed stilts into the bleachers.

I ducked, but Catman caught the stilts, leaped three rows down to the parade path, hopped onto the stilts, and joined the parade. Mrs. Barker and I cracked up as Catman stilted all the way around the circus tent, tossed back the stilts, and then took his seat as if nothing had happened.

The first circus act moved fast because the lion cages had been wheeled out as the parade cleared. Leopold, the short lion tamer, cracked his whip and opened the cages, turning his back on roaring lions as they stepped out.

Beside me, Catman adjusted his glasses and leaned forward.

All five lions mounted pedestals and sat up, batting the air as if clawing invisible enemies. But one lion was the star. At the end of the act, Leopold stuck his head in its jaws. The crowd gasped, then burst into applause.

Two men, who would have been Clydesdales in a horse world, lumbered out and rolled away the cages, while the chubby clown swept the ring.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” shouted Colonel Coolidge over the mike. “Our next act—!”

“Lookie! Eddy!” two-year-old William cried from Mrs. Barker’s lap.

Barker, in clown costume, wandered into the ring, dragging Macho, Johnny’s coon dog.

“Please clear the ring!” commanded the Colonel.

But Barker just waved as if he were happy to see the ringmaster.

Kids around us chuckled.

Barker and Macho ambled to the mike.

“The clown act isn’t until later!” barked the ringmaster.

Barker stood on tiptoes to talk into the mike. “I’m not a clown. I’m a master trainer! I can teach a dog any trick!”

People laughed, including the Colonel. “Oh yes, you look like a master dog trainer!”

“I’ll prove it!” Barker shouted. “I just found this stray dog, and I’ll train him right now!”

Macho barked.

Mrs. Barker laughed hard.

Colonel Coolidge inspected the scroungy-looking hound dog. Then he sprang back, holding his nose, like Macho had bad breath. “Your dog’s bark seems to be worse than his bite. Go ahead then. It’s a
flea
country!” He muttered into the mike, “This circus is going to the dogs.”

Barker turned to Macho. “Sit up!”

Macho obeyed.

“Lie down!” Barker commanded. “Roll over!”

Macho did. The crowd laughed and clapped.

“I don’t believe you just found that dog!” the ringmaster accused.

From the side of the ring a chocolate Lab dressed in a baseball uniform trotted out to center stage—Mark’s Irene.

Barker shouted, “Here’s another stray!”

Irene sat on her haunches and didn’t move while Barker rolled four straight balls past her.

“I thought you said you were a master dog trainer!” snapped the ringmaster. “Why did that dog just let four balls by?”

Barker shrugged. “Everybody knows you have to
walk
the dog!”

The drums hit a
ba-da-boom!
And the crowd roared with laughter.

William squealed as his collie trotted out with Luke’s white Chihuahua on his back.

“Watch me teach these two strays some tricks!” Barker shouted.

But Colonel Coolidge held up his hand. “Wait just a minute! Any trick?”

Barker nodded and started to give the dogs a command.

The Colonel interrupted. “Let’s have the audience decide which trick
they’d
like to see!”

Barker looked worried as the ringmaster invited the crowd to shout out tricks.

One by one, people shouted: “Play dead!” “Skip rope!” “Speak!”

A tall, skinny man with bushy, red hair stood up in front of us. He clutched popcorn in one hand, a laser flashlight in the other. “Make that little dog jump through your arms!”

The Colonel repeated the man’s request.

“That’s too hard!” I whispered to Catman.

Barker made a loop with his arms. Underdog, the collie, with Chico still on his back, ran toward Barker. As Underdog trotted past, Chico jumped through Barker’s outstretched arms and landed back on Underdog.

The crowd went wild! Barker was a hit!

After that, we watched the trapeze and high-wire acts, the jugglers and acrobats. Catman answered my questions with as few words as humanly possible: “Double trapeze. Roman rings. Cloud swing. Spanish web.” He could have had his own man-of-few-words act.

Gabrielle and her mother did a great bareback act with two Percherons—big, gentle horses with calm dispositions, the kind that used to pull royal coaches or farm plows without complaining. Later the LeBlonds came out again—Gabrielle on her white horse, her mom on a camel, and her dad on an elephant. The elephant got the most applause.

I watched Gabrielle as they rode past. She had a big smile, but it looked fake. “She doesn’t look happy,” I told Catman.

“Gabrielle had the dancing-horse act with the Hoxie Brothers Circus until her family signed on with the Colonel,” Catman explained. “She’s weirded-out that Ramon gets top billing.”

When Ramon and Midnight made their entrance, there was no doubt who was the star of the show. The crowd burst into applause as Midnight high-stepped to the center of the ring and bowed. Ramon took off his three-cornered hat as Midnight dropped to his knees, then lay down so Ramon could step off.

Midnight Mystery played dead, sat up, then stretched low for Ramon to mount again. But as soon as Ramon hit the saddle, Midnight changed. He sidestepped and jigged in place. Nothing too bad, but I knew it wasn’t part of the show.

They moved to the outer ring, and Midnight did the two-step, marching with one leg, step, step, then reaching out the other leg, all to waltz music. I could hardly wait to see his cossack act, the one that could help him realize his dream.

“How about a big hand for Ramon and Midnight Mystery?” shouted the Colonel.

The crowd cheered as Midnight pranced to the center of the ring and lifted one hoof in a wave. They rode toward the exit. Then Midnight turned around and reared, both his forelegs pawing the air.

Suddenly Mystery lunged forward. Ramon slid in the saddle but stayed on. The stallion exploded into a dead canter, bolted around the ring and through the slit in the tent.

People applauded, but I knew better. “Catman! That was no act! Midnight Mystery is a runaway!”

Catman passed me as we raced out of the Big Top after Ramon and Midnight. Behind us I heard the Colonel’s ringmaster voice: “Ladies and gentlemen, another round of applause for Midnight Mystery’s great getaway!”