The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Devil's Hound (3 page)

Lizzie had run into Dru, along with his snooty sister, Collette, on his way to stick up the posters. The posters were bigger than usual, with yellow, purple, and red ink blazing through the rain.

“Fitzy spent a fortune on these,” Dru had told her approvingly. “And look who's at the center!” It was Erin and Nora, the Amazing Sullivan Twins, long red hair flying like banners, performing their equestrian ballet from the backs of two beautiful black horses.

Fitzy had spent a fortune on Albert and Victoria too. A fortune he didn't have.
No wonder he's worried
, Lizzie had thought. If the rain kept the customers away, Fitzy wouldn't just lose the profits, he'd have to surrender the horses. And without the horses the posters were useless, so he'd have wasted that money too. Everything seemed like it was hanging by a thread.

At least the Sullivan boys had their own part of the equestrian act to perform. After Erin and Nora had amazed the crowds with their horseback ballet, the boys — Conor, Patrick, Sean, and Brendan — would perform their Wild West routine, firing off pistols and shooting arrows at straw dummies. Lizzie respected their talent, but everyone knew Nora and Erin were the ones the crowds came to see. Clearly Fitzy knew it too.

Hari finally appeared, but when he edged around the tent flap, the horses weren't with him. Even the clowns stopped in the middle of their routine and stared.

“I'm waiting,” Fitzy told him.

“I'm sorry, Fitzy,” Hari said. “The new horses aren't ready to perform.”

“Did I or did I not say I wanted them here at five on the dot?” Fitzy clenched his gloved hands around his cane as if he meant to strangle the life out of it.

“It's the storm!” Hari held up his hands, helpless to do anything. “It's made them so skittish, and Victoria's already temperamental! We need to leave them alone for a whole day at least, so they can calm down. If they could talk, they'd thank you for it.”

Fitzy shook his head. “I can't. The horses are on the posters. That means they have to be in the show, and the show has to be rehearsed.”

Hari threw Malachy a desperate look.

“You should do what Hari says, Pop,” Malachy said. “He knows animals better than anyone else in this circus. You've said it yourself.”

Fitzy put his arms around Nora and Erin. “But Hari's not going to be the one who rides them, is he? The Amazing Sullivan Twins are. They're the most experienced riders any of us have ever seen. Don't worry. They'll be fine.”

Erin and Nora looked at one another nervously.

“But it is late, and it is raining, so we'll put off rehearsal until first light tomorrow,” Fitzy said. “But not a second later, understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Fitzgerald,” the twins said together.

Fitzy beamed, but Hari shook his head and slipped out silently.

* * *

The next morning, the rain had turned from a constant downpour to a light drizzle.

“What could I say?” Nora protested as Lizzie stroked Albert's soft nose. “I didn't want to let Fitzy down.”

Lizzie stood her ground. “You could have said no. He can't make you practice.”

Erin, meanwhile, was riding Victoria around and around, balancing on tiptoes on the horse's back. The acrobats were rehearsing in the main tent, so there was nowhere else to practice but outside in the rain. Hari had come to watch and stood by silently, keeping a careful eye on the horses.

“Oh, but you're a beauty, aren't you,” Nora sighed as she patted Albert's glossy flank. “We can't have the creditors taking you back, can we?”

“They are beautiful,” Lizzie agreed. “Like — what's the word for shadow pictures cut out of black paper? It's French. Dru said it once.”

“Silhouettes,” Nora said with a smile. With that, she vaulted onto Albert's back and rode off to join her sister. Albert's hooves churned up wet mud, spattering the air. Lizzie glanced at the sky and wished she had the power to turn the rain off.

But it was worth getting wet to watch the Sullivans in action. Even though Lizzie had seen their act many times before, their grace took her breath away. They balanced on top of the horses like ballerinas. It was as if invisible wings were keeping them upright, hovering weightless as hummingbirds.

The twins turned somersaults midair and landed delicately on their hands. Lizzie stifled a gasp. She didn't want to distract them. Another flip and they were on their feet again, somehow perfectly balanced despite the horses thundering along below them.They turned, posed, spun around, balanced first on one leg and then on one hand.

It's going to be all right
, Lizzie thought to herself.
The moment word gets out that these two gorgeous horses and their brilliant riders are in the show, Fitzy's going to be rolling in money!

Now for the finale. This was the real showstopper. Each twin got ready to leap through the air, do the splits, and land on the other's horse. Lizzie held her breath.

Just then, thunder boomed, echoing across the field like cannon fire.

Victoria reared up, whinnying wildly. Erin fell from her back and landed, gasping, on the muddy ground. As Erin struggled to stand up, all Lizzie could think was:
At least the ground is soft.

But as Victoria's hooves came down, the big black horse slipped on the mud. Suddenly she was falling, legs waving wildly in the air, her head thrashing. She rolled right on top of Erin, who didn't even have time to scream.

There was a hideous cracking sound as Erin vanished beneath the horse's bulk.

“Erin!” Lizzie ran into the field.
Please don't be dead, oh God, please let her be okay!
she thought wildly.

Hari sprinted in after her. Victoria was still floundering on the muddy ground, kicking her legs in a mad panic. The moment the horse saw the boy, she seemed to calm down. Hari took her reins and coaxed her gently back onto her feet.

Erin lay on her back in the mud. Her face was terribly pale, and her clothes were completely filthy. Lizzie expected to see blood streaming from a wound, but there wasn't any — not yet.

Nora rode up beside them, looking like she was on the verge of tears, and quickly dismounted. “Is she breathing?”

“I think so,” Lizzie said.

Erin let out a long moan that gradually rose to a sob. “It hurts!”

She's alive!
Lizzie thought with relief. But there was no time to celebrate. Lizzie tried to help her up. “What hurts? Where did she get you?”

Erin put one arm around Lizzie and managed to stand up. “She landed on my wrist,” she said, holding her arm in front of them. It looked red and swollen. Her lips were trembling.

“Let me see,” said Hari. “Mmm. It's taken a bad hit. You'd better go and see Fitzy.”

“It's nothing. Nora, get Ma to make us a cup of tea, would you?”

“Tea?” Nora yelled. “You could have been killed! Victoria could have crushed you to death!”

“I'm fine, you silly goose,” Erin said. “Stop your fussing.” She tucked her injured wrist under her other arm, tried to smile, and grimaced again. “It's okay, Lizzie. I can walk.”

“You sure about that?” Lizzie asked.

Erin pulled free of Lizzie's arm. “I've had falls before. Do you think I'm made of china? I've been riding since I was a child.”

“Victoria's okay too, I think,” Hari told them. “She's shaken, but she's not injured. That was a close one. You were both very lucky.”

“Come on,” Nora said firmly. “We're going to see Fitzy. He's got to be told!”

Grumbling and wincing from the pain, Erin followed them, leaving Hari to see to the horses. They found Fitzy in his caravan. He was looking over some papers with the oil lamp lit even though it was morning. The weather was so gloomy that only a dim light the color of old dishwater made it through the windows.

The moment Fitzy saw Erin plastered head to foot with mud, he sprang to his feet. “What happened?”

“There was an accident,” Lizzie explained. She told him the whole story. While Lizzie spoke, Erin kept her wrist hidden behind her back and fought to keep a brave smile on her face.

“Come on, Erin,” the ringmaster said. “Show me.”

Reluctantly, Erin showed him her injured wrist. Lizzie winced in sympathy. It was bright red and had puffed up like a loaf of bread.

Fitzy smacked his forehead. “Stupid old man,” he said to himself. “I should have known better. This is what comes of pushing people too hard.”

“It's not your fault—” Erin tried to say.

“It is absolutely my fault!” Fitzy said, slamming his hand down on the table. “Don't even try to argue. You must see a doctor, and I am paying, and that's that.”

“But . . . what about the show?” Erin asked nervously.

“The show is my problem. Nora, Lizzie, take Erin into Kensal Green and find a doctor. I'm going to go and break the news to your mother. I expect she'll skin me alive.”

The three girls set out for the main road, while Fitzy went off in the other direction. Erin looked over her shoulder and watched him go. “You'd think he'd broken my wrist himself, the way he's carrying on.”

“Can you blame him?” Nora snapped. “Yesterday he was all
practice, practice, practice,
and never mind how the horses are acting up. Hari tried to warn him. Malachy too!”

“Is your wrist broken?” Lizzie asked in alarm.

“Probably just a sprain,” said Erin, but the pain in her eyes told a different story.

As they walked toward the town, Lizzie couldn't help thinking about what would happen now. How could Erin hold Victoria's reins with a broken wrist? Or do a handstand? Even the best doctor in the world couldn't fix her up in time for opening night. And the rain was still coming down like God meant to drown the world.

If Fitzy is ruined and the circus has to close, where will I go?
Lizzie thought.

It was a miserable trudge into town to find a doctor. The cemetery loomed beside the road, but nobody mentioned it.

The girls probably think it's brought us bad luck already
, Lizzie thought.
Who knows, maybe they're right.

Just then, they heard the clop of hooves and the creak of wheels coming up behind them. Lizzie worried it might be another funeral procession, but instead she saw a farmer's cart leaving the cemetery gates. A young girl in a simple smock sat at the reins.

“What's she doing in that place?” Nora asked, a little suspicious.

She doesn't even want to say the word cemetery out loud
, Lizzie realized. “Who cares?” she said. “She might know where to find a doctor!” She set off at a run.

“Careful!” Nora called. “You know what Ma says about talking to local folk! They don't like us.”

Lizzie ignored her and flagged down the girl.

The farm girl called, “Whoa, Dandy!” and the horse came to a stop.

“He's a beauty,” Lizzie said, admiring the animal. He was too — a real old piece of England, shaggy and heavy-hoofed. The horse eyed Lizzie with no sign of alarm.
Very different from skittish Victoria
, she thought.
Clearly not every animal is spooked by Kensal Green Cemetery.

“I suppose he is. Do you like horses, then?” the girl asked. She looked to be around Lizzie's age or maybe a little older. She had the sweet, pink-cheeked face of a country rose, as Pa Sullivan liked to call the farm girls, but some accident had marked it cruelly. Her skin was covered with tiny scars, as if she'd been peppered with buckshot. And her eyes were dark, as if she'd been crying.

“Love 'em. But I'm no expert. These two, my friends, they ride horses in the circus!” Lizzie pointed to Nora and Erin with pride.

The girl looked suspicious. “Don't tease!”

“I'm not,” Lizzie said, pointing to where the bright colors of the circus tents glimmered from the nearby field. “We need to find Erin a doctor. She's hurt. One of the horses fell on her.”

“Dr. Gladwell,” the girl said immediately. “He lives on the other side of Kensal Green. It's a long walk, though.” As Lizzie's face fell, the girl gave her a half-smile. “Climb on board if you want. I'll give you a ride there.”

“Thanks!” Lizzie, Erin, and Nora all scrambled up into the cart, which smelled of old hay and summers long past. “I'm Lizzie, by the way.”

“I'm Becky. This silly old lump is Dandy.” The horse snorted as if he were offended. With a flick of the reins, they set off.

Becky seemed shy and upset, so Lizzie sat beside her and chatted merrily about circus life. The country girl drank it all up, clearly fascinated. “It sounds quite wonderful,” she said. “But you're always on the move? You don't have homes anywhere in the world?”

“It's the open road for us!” Nora said with a happy grin.

“What happened to your face?” Erin asked.

Nora jabbed her hard with her elbow and hissed, “Erin! You can't just ask people that!”

Becky hesitated. “I had smallpox.”

“You must have had it bad!” Lizzie said in horror.

Becky shook her head. “I was lucky. I got better. But my pa didn't.”

Lizzie snuck a second look at Becky's face. The scars were still quite fresh, and some of them were red. She put two and two together in her mind. “Is that why you were in the cemetery?” she asked.

Becky looked at her, bit her lip, then gave a quick nod. “I wanted to put some flowers on his grave. The wild roses by the old well . . . they hadn't bloomed when they buried him, but then today the rain brought them out . . .”

“I'm sure he would have loved them,” Lizzie said. “Has it been a long time since . . . since he went?”

“It was only two days ago,” Becky said, her voice catching in her throat.