Circus Parade (10 page)

“Well a fellow could get it for three thousand, and he could raise everything on it. Why they say the wild geese come there by the thousands. And you can sell 'em for a dollar apiece.

“It's a trick lake, Lila. The geese light on it in the winter and it freezes over every night. Then all you have to do is to wait till morning and go out in a boat and load it with geese. You can catch forty thousand geese every winter that way. He told me about it because he's got a gold mine near Pittsburgh and ain't got time to work the farm any more. Says he's tired of draggin' geese offen the lake.”

“Is dot so? How good dot is,” smiled Lila.

“I'll say it's good, Lila. The house is on a big hill an' you can see through the trees for miles and miles. Gosh, I never had such a good time. I sure wish I could buy the place, but then I ain't got no money. You know I got hurt last year. Making the last mount, my foot slipped offa Benito's shoulder an' I spilled—cracked three ribs. It's kep' me broke ever since.”

“Why you poor boy,” said Lila, “poor boy. And yust to think you must work now.” She stroked his hair. “Why diden' you ask for more money?”

“Well it is pretty tough, Lila, but, you know, I'm all man I am. I never whimper. I got an old mother an' I'm good to her. She always says to me, she says, ‘A boy who'll be good to his old mother'll be good to any other woman,' an' I always pet her an' say, ‘Shut up, ma, you old jollier.' Course away down deep I admire women. If it wasn't for women, how'd any of us get here?”

There never was such a light in Lila's eyes before.

“You good, good boy,” she said, holding his head against her ample bosom, large enough for the miseries of the world. “Such a good boy—an' dot little lake dat the geese come to—poor geese. We'll let your mudder stay wit' us too. An' we won't hurt the geese.”

“You know, Lila, I'm learnin' to think a lot o' you. You're a mighty fine woman. You got a heart in you bigger'n all outdoors. I ain't never seen a woman like you, I ain't.”

Anton laid his arm on her immense shoulder. Her eyes closed. Little lines of joy ran around them.

“Oh, I am so happy,” she exclaimed, holding Anton to her as gentle as a mother holds a babe.

“I just knew—I just knew. I been a good girl all the time, Anton. Some man I knew would care for good girl. Oh, Anton, how good, how nice, how sweet you are.” She sobbed, her tremendous bosom moving.

“But, Lila, any man must care for you. How capable you are and how strong.”

“Oh, Anton, I do be strong, but you don't know how hard it be before you come. So lonesome, all the time I sit an' read an' want my man too, an' my little house an' my lake an' my geese an' odder tings like odder women. An' here all time I leeft men an' cows an' tings. Oh, I'm so
hapee
, so
hapee
.” She clapped her hands together. Anton jumped at the noise.

“I leeft sometimes an' my shoulders they hurt, an' nobody t'inks dot I ever be seeck. But oh, Anton, I do be sometime so seeck, I cannot see all du people who gawk at me a liftin' farmers.”

“That's a tough life, dearie, but you know it won't last forever. There's happier days ahead now.” He put his arms partly about her. “Wonderful woman,” he crooned, “just like a little girl.” There was a joyful pause for Lila.

“Can you cook, girlie?” asked Anton.

“Oh yes, yes, Anton, I can cook everyt'ing an' can make lager be-er unt schmearkase—unt— unt———”

“Well, well that'll be fine. I'll tell you, Lila, what do you say we buy that little farm I told you about? I can wire my friend fifteen hundred if you say so. Then we can get married the last day of the circus here. And by that time my friend'll have everything fixed for us, and we can go right there. It ain't far to New York State from here. It's only eleven now, an' I can git down and wire the money before twelve.”

“Oh dot'll be fine, Anton. Here, I give two thousand to you.” She took her grouch bage from her neck and handed the money to him. “Blessy boy, so good, so kind, so much more'n a friend. I love you—so much—much more. You breeng me happeeness.”

Anton's hands shook as he took the twenty hundred dollar bills.

“Don't shake, Anton Boy, I'm happier'n you,” Lila said as she rose and walked with him to the tent door.

“I'll be back in an hour. It may take a little longer, but don't worry, girlie, I'll be here sure.” Anton smiled as he kissed her cheek.

She was too happy to read for the next hour.…

*      *      *

In three mornings they found her in crumpled finery. A little blue bottle was clenched in her right hand. Many paper-backed novels were piled near her trunk. It was packed as if for a long journey.

 

T
HE Strong Woman's death had a gloomy effect upon me. Slug Finnerty and Cameron had discovered her. A mark was seen on her throat, as though the string which held her grouch bag had been torn from it. Money, jewelry, finery, everything of possible value had disappeared. We always felt that Cameron and Finnerty had robbed her.

“They'd of skinned her if they could, the measly crooks!” sneered Jock. “Talk about fallin' among thieves.”

The coroner was called, and signed the death certificate. There was no money with which to bury her.

“It's a lucky shot for me,” said Silver Moon Dugan, “I owed her fifty bucks I won't have to pay. She was a funny dame.”

The Moss-Haired Girl said to me after the coroner had gone, “It sure is awful to die in Arkansas with this circus, but then she's just as well off. She was just in wrong, that's all.” She walked with me to where the Baby Buzzard sat in front of the musicians' tent.

“Well, she's gone,” said the Baby Buzzard as we approached.

“Yes,” was Alice's answer.

“It's a hard loss for Bob. She drew a lot of money each week.”

“Yes, it's
too bad
for Bob.
Poor Bob
, he does have the
hardest time
,” smiled Alice.

“Yes indeed he do,” responded the Baby Buzzard, missing the Moss-Haired Girl's tone of mockery.

“But she has to be buried, you know,” continued the Moss-Haired Girl. “There's too much of her to keep above ground. We'd better take up a collection for her. I'll start it with twenty dollars.” Just then Cameron appeared. “What will you give?” Alice asked him.

“Well, I think five dollars each among twenty of us will be enough. After all, we can't get a coffin big enough in the town, and it don't matter anyhow. I've got two of the boys makin' a big box and linin' it wit' canvas. The coffins fall apart after three days in the grave anyhow. Them undertakers are the original highway robbers.” And Cameron fingered his Elk tooth charm.

The Baby Buzzard disappeared and returned with her glassful of half dollars. She counted ten of the coins and handed them to Alice, who turned them over to Cameron.

“These'll pay her way through purgatory, or start her soul rollin'. That's more'n she'd do for me if I croaked. People 'at croak 'emselves should bury 'emselves. Them's my ways of lookin' at it. I ain't never seen a man yet I'd bump myself off for. You can't do 'em no good when you're dead,” half soliloquized the Baby Buzzard.

“May be not,” returned the Moss-Haired Girl, looking from Cameron to the Baby Buzzard, “but we can at least shut our mouths and let her rest in peace. Somebody's stole everything she had. Even her silk underwear's gone. And who in the dickens with this circus can wear that?”

“Maybe Goosey stole it to put on the elephants,” sneered the old lady.

“Maybe so, but the elephants wouldn't wear it if they knew it was stolen. They're above that.”

“Well, well,” and Cameron now became reverent, “it's all beyond our power.” He pointed heavenward. “He who is above us has called her home.”

“He may have called her, but He didn't send her carfare. He probably thought she could bum her way,” dryly commented the Baby Buzzard.

“That is not for us to judge,” replied Cameron solemnly, “for who are we to question the Great Taskmaster's laws? It is best that we bury her before parade so as not to disturb the even tenor of our ways. I will say a few words and have the band play and sing a few songs. And then we shall take her to the graveyard in one of the elephant's cages. Buddy Conroy is there now makin' arrangements. The wagon with the cage can follow along with the parade, and no one will be the wiser.”

The Strong Woman was placed in a square pine canvas-covered box with her blonde head resting on a huge red pillow trimmed in green. Her heavy hands were folded. Her mouth was puckered in a half smile which helped to conceal the cyanide scar at the edge of her lower lip. Her head was buried in the pillow. Her large breasts rose high above everything.

Fourteen men lifted the box.

Cameron's showman instinct prevailed at the last. The calliope was called into service. A man stood upon its platform and played as weird a tune as was ever concocted by the most fantastic human brain.

It seemed to my boyish mind to have been blended with wild wails and screeching laughter. It was followed by:

Freaks and thieves, trailers and clown acrobats and stake-drivers gathered in front of the Strong Woman's tent.

“Come on now, men, we'll make it snappy,” said Slug Finnerty. “Join in the song with the calliope.”

He waved his hands.

The crude heavy voices were drowned out by the wail of the calliope.

They drove the chariot down below
,

A spirit fell down and hurt his toe
,

Floating on the River of Sin
.

Then singin' and shoutin' way out loud
,

Floating on the River of Sin
.

They took her to heaven in a great big cloud
,

Floating on the River of Sin
.

When the song had died away Silver Moon Dugan, the Boss canvasman, commented.

“Gee, if she ever falls outta heaven there'll be a splash.” A few roustabouts laughed. Then Cameron stood before us on a pine box.

“Fellow travelers with Cameron's World's Greatest Combined Shows,” he began, and paused—“it is my sad duty to say a few words here. I wish it understood that I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise her. She is beyond us now, stripped of everything before God, who takes care of the weary and the worn and calls the wandering lady here home.

“We talk of worldly splendor, yet Solomon in all his gorgeous glory was not arrayed as one of these. She who now lies here before us once held our little world in awe. Now none of us are too procrastinatin' an' poor to show our irreverence, and she recks not at all of it. It is not ours to judge, for we are ever in the Great Taskmaster's eye, and if he should ever blink it ever so slightly we would crumble like the atomic mountains that rise outta the sea.

“Ours is but a little stay here, full of sound and fury, and, if you will pardon the blasphemy, signifying not a hell of a lot.

“It all reminds me of that well-known poem made immortal by Browning, than whom there was no more profound student of the human heart:

“Those lines to me have always been a welcoming tocsin. When tired, when weary with the troubles of Cameron's World's Greatest Combined Shows, I often retire to my humble car and solicitate upon them. Feeling the full majesty of them, I have naught but love and understanding for those members of my circus who would fain be ungrateful.

“For are we not the same that our fathers have been? Do we not see the same sights and view the same sun and run in the same blood where our fathers have run?

“A great object-lesson can be received from this. As I have said in preceding, we are ever in our Great Taskmaster's eye. He who rolls the mountains is watching over us.

“God is ever on the side of justice, or as General Robert E. Lee so well said, God marches at the head of the heaviest battalions; and those battalions are imposed of justice and mercy and undying truth.”

Cameron took a large red and white kerchief from his pocket. He unfolded it deliberately, then wiped his forehead and eyes, cleared his throat and resumed:

“We have labored in the vineyard with our sleeping friend here—and that reminds me that she is not dead, but sleepeth.” Cameron looked at his audience as one will who feels he has uttered a profound truth. He wiped his eyes again. When he removed the kerchief they suddenly filled with tears. His whole manner changed. “Oh it stabs my heart, this grief before me. He who has loved and has run away may live to love some other day. But what about the victim of this dastardly attempt at liason? I adjure you …” His frame shook, his kerchief rubbed wet eyes. The audience looked bored with piety. Cameron's right hand, holding the kerchief, rose high in the air. He stood on tiptoe. “But friends, do not despair. In that vast circus ground in the other world we shall meet the lady who lies here with folded hands forever.”

The crowd dispersed. The Strong Woman was placed in the elephant cage while the calliope played:

It then shifted:

The ringmaster's whistle blew. Wagons began to move. The Strong Woman started on her last parade.