e,” he said in a harsh mockery of a whisper. When I had asked Bertha not to say anything to the grown-ups, I hadn’t considered Apollo.
“Land sakes, boy. You saw what condition they were in when we arrived.”
“I’m here to watch over them now.”
“Great heaven!” I exclaimed. “Can’t you get it through your skull that Mink is not a nice man? He’s mean and neglectful and only out for himself. The giant might not have died if he’d been given help sooner, and I honestly believe Mink would have boiled the man for his bones if that sheriff hadn’t been on hand. How can I leave the children with Mink and his men? Do you think he’d care if any of them died, Apollo? It would just be an inconvenience to him. What if Minnie died? Would he put her in a jar like the babies?”
“But Dr. Mink put me in charge of the children,” Apollo argued. “I can help them now.”
“And so you shall,” I answered, trying to be patient. “Remember that good Mr. Northstar who rescued you from the train?”
Apollo nodded, looking confused by my change in subject.
“You know who he was looking for when he let you out? He was looking for his son, Willie, who had been stolen by a show. That’s our Willie, Apollo. Mink stole him away and left his grandmother for dead, and the best way you can help Willie is to get him back to his father.”
Apollo’s mouth opened and closed for a moment like that of a fish. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Are you making this up?”
I sighed. “I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to scare you, but it’s time you were scared, Apollo, so you’ll be careful.”
Apollo’s confusion would soon lead to a sulk. I should take another tack. “You’re doing a magnificent job of caring for those children,” I said. “All I’m saying is you could care for them elsewhere.”
He cocked his head.
“Imagine,” I said. “Apollo Papandreou and His Band of Incredible Children. What an act, huh? And you’d be the only boss. Consider my suggestion, but keep mum. We don’t want Mink to get wind of our plan.”
“Well, I’ll think on it,” he said, knitting his furry brow.
I took a deep breath. That would have to do for now.
The afternoon was quiet and hot. Most everyone napped under the wagons, except Billy Sweet, who headed for the woods with a whiskey bottle. Earle, stuck inside the tent built around him, fanned himself lethargically with a copy of the Police Gazette in between reading the scandals. Dr. Mink hid in his wagon as usual. Who knew what occupied him there? He wasn’t one to share his secrets.
After I checked to see if the horses were hobbled comfortably, I too rolled under my wagon, taking a straw hat with me to fend off the flies.
Screams roused me from a sticky stupor. I scrambled from my nest and joined Miss Lightfoot and Mr. Ginger, who were headed for the ruckus.
19
BESS, BESS, BESS!” MINNIE screamed, banging her heels on the ground beside the children’s wagon and flinging her arms this way and that. She beat aside Apollo’s hands as he tried to calm her. Tears streamed down her face.
The other children stood around her, helpless.
“She won’t stop,” said Apollo, his face distraught.
“What’s the ruckus?” called Earle from inside the tent.
“Minnie’s having a tantrum,” answered Miss Lightfoot over Minnie’s cries. “She’s got a hankering for Bess, and Bess isn’t here.”
It was late afternoon. “Bess not back?” I asked Mr. Bopp.
“Nah,” he replied. “She likes her times alone.”
Ceecee crawled from the back of a nearby wagon, his face pinched. “Shut that ugly urchin up!” he demanded. “I’m trying to sleep.” He wiped an arm across his mouth. His turban was gone and his hair hung in oily, uneven locks. Mud-covered boots stuck out from beneath his wrapper.
“The water’s full of angry!” screamed Minnie. Then she saw Ceecee. “Him, him, him!” she cried.
Ceecee stalked over, rage in his eyes. He leaned over the child, his fist raised.
“Hey,” Apollo protested, and tried to grab Ceecee’s arm.