The wagons were loaded and the horses hitched, but they were still lined up in the lane. I hammered upon the rear door of the wood-paneled wagon. The door opened a crack. “It’s a little late to come a-calling, ain’t it?” said Dr. Mink, a knowing smirk on his face.
I set aside my manners and pushed the door open farther. As I guessed, Apollo was inside, seated on a bunk. “I thought you were asleep,” he said. I hoped he had the decency to blush under that fur.
Dr. Mink sat on a stool. “Apollo has accepted my offer of a job.”
“It’ll be wonderful, Abel. I shall have star billing and my very own banner.”
Two seductions had been taking place, it seemed. “What about your family?” I asked. “And your friends at home?” And what about my job? I thought. I wondered if I could pick him up and remove him by force. Dr. Mink, the little stick man, would be no hindrance.
“I can’t go back home. You know that,” he answered. “Things were bad enough before I defied my fath
er.”
The door behind me slammed, and I turned to see the largest driver blocking my way out. So much for grab and run.
“Colonel Kingston will watch out for you,” I said. “I promise you, all will be well.”
“You can’t promise him anything,” said Dr. Mink, “and you have no authority over him either. You are no relation.”
“Perhaps the sheriff will see it differently,” I answered.
“Yiss, go get the sheriff,” he said, grinning like death, and I knew he was thinking the law would care nothing for a freak boy, and by the time I returned, they would be gone.
“You won’t have fun with all those grown-ups,” I told Apollo. “They’ll always be bossing you around.”
“Oh, we have children,” said Dr. Mink. “They’re waiting for us farther west. Don’t worry, Apollo. You’ll have fine playmates to cut shines with.”
“Are those stolen children too?” I almost asked, before the terrible truth of those words stopped me. Could that be where Mr. Northstar’s child was? I had to find out. How could I abandon a child in need? I almost choked on my next words. “Well, if you’ve made up your mind, so be it,” I said to Apollo. There went all my plans, flying out the carriage window. I could have cussed a blue streak. “But I can’t let you go off with strangers,” I told the boy. “Perhaps you have room for a knife thrower after all?” I asked Dr. Mink.
Dr. Mink paused a moment to look me up and down. He flicked his tongue across his lips. Perhaps he was deciding how much trouble I would be. Finally he spoke. “Not a knife thrower,” he said, “but I need a driver.”
I ran back to the house to grab my suitcase. Lillie was still in my room, curled in a ball on my bed.
“Apollo and I are leaving,” I explained. “Could you give a message to Mr. Northstar, should he return? Tell him I think I know where his son may be. Tell him to follow Lazarus Mink.”
“Will you forgive me, Abel?” she said, and wiped a tear from her eye.
“There’s nothing to forgive, Lillie,” I said. “Take care.”
We were a mile down the road when I realized that once again I had left a job without my pay. I was still broke.
14
MINK ASSIGNED ME TO THE WAGON formerly driven by the bearded dwarf woman, who now rode discreetly inside with the alligator girl. A skinny fellow drove the giant, the human caterpillar, and the two-headed man. The muscular brute who had collected admission money drove Mink’s wagon. I had expected Apollo to ride with me, so I bristled when he chose to ride up front with his newfound friend, Dr. Mink. But I figured if I were him, I’d rather see the country ahead than the back of another wagon.
Two hours along the road, we stopped so the drivers could sleep, curled up under the wagons. The skinny fellow shook me awake at dawn and tossed me a packet of cheese and bread wrapped in brown paper for my breakfast. I hitched my team, climbed groggily into my seat, and followed the other wagons out, grateful that the horses seemed healthy and cooperative.
We traveled down dirt roads between windswept cornfields, and across stretches of green and purple prairie. The women in my wagon kept to themselves. The alligator girl seemed shy, and the dwarf was gruff, so I didn’t want to intrude. But I didn’t mind being left with my own thoughts. I thrilled with the excitement of a journey to unknown parts. The freedom that suffused me as I basked in the glorious smells on the warm July breeze made it easy to push aside worries. I felt sure that I would find Mr. Northstar’s missing child up ahead, but what I would do about that boy and Apollo would have to wait until I saw what circumstance offered me.
We traveled all day, with only a few comfort stops. On these occasions the women went first and then the men, spreading out into the bushes and trees. The human caterpillar rode under the arm of the giant—I tried not to dwell on that predicament—and the short, skinny driver led the two-headed man, who seemed to have problems navigating. Apollo trotted along behind Dr. Mink and babbled nonstop at the man. It stung me that he didn’t bother to see how I fared.
That evening we pulled into a stand of trees by a stream. I struggled from my perch and hobbled to the bank for a drink. The bumps and jars of the road had invaded my every bone. No one else seemed to suffer as much as I. They were used to traveling all day in a bouncing wagon, I supposed. I helped unhitch the horses, then the skinny fellow gathered sticks, and the tall, muscular man disappeared into the trees with a rifle over his shoulder. Apollo came out of Dr. Mink s wagon, still chattering, and Mink smiled at him indulgently and covered a yawn. Mink noticed me, and his smile twisted into a sneer. He clapped Apollo on the back and sent him toward me. Apollo hesitated, then watched the showman return to his wagon before he ran to me. I wanted to spit.
“Abel,” the puppy boy cried. “Dr. Mink has a lady in a box!” Apollo didn’t give me a chance to ask what on earth he meant by that. “Dr. Mink said I should be in charge of the children’s acts. He says I’m as smart as a steel trap.”
“Is that so?” I said. What a devilish judge of character Dr. Mink had proved to be. He knew how to capture Apollo’s devotion. I kicked at a clod of dirt. “And did he tell you anything about these children?” I asked. “How many are there? Are they girls or boys? What do they look like?”
“There’s the alligator lady,” Apollo cried, totally ignoring my questions, and ran to her as if she were a long-lost auntie. I followed, hissing with frustration.