Mending Horses (36 page)

Fogarty rushed toward Billy and Lorenzo. Daniel urged Ivy between Billy's father and the camel, but he had to fall back when Fogarty raised his pickax and swung.

The railroad men shouldered their picks and digging bars and charged at the wagons, but fell back at an unearthly tumult that came from the rear of the caravan. A massive brown beast wreathed in flame hurtled out from behind the menagerie wagons. The creature reared on its hind legs, exposing daggerlike claws. A rail-thin rider shouted curses from atop the demonic animal.

“Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Daniel exclaimed, crossing himself at the sight of Mr. Lamb straddling Griselda's back as though riding a horse. The menagerie keeper looked the very devil himself, wielding a torch in each hand as he urged the giant bear forward. An unholy yowl came from farther down the line, and Mr. Kellogg emerged from the darkness with one of the panthers on a chain. The confused beast dragged him along as it tried to decide whether to fight or flee.

Fogarty stopped midswing, blinded by a shower of rank spittle that Lorenzo spewed over him. Daniel wheeled Ivy to come at Fogarty from behind. Clinging to her mane, he kicked Fogarty between the shoulder blades as Ivy surged past. He whirled Ivy about and charged again, leaning low from her back to grab the fallen pick before Fogarty could recover it. “Run!” Daniel shouted at Billy, using Ivy to drive Lorenzo away from the wagons.

Ivy reared as she came about once more. Daniel clung to her back, trying to keep her steady while he sorted out what to do.
The two remaining camels roared and spat in all directions, hitting railroad workers and show folk alike, while Mr. Lamb rode Griselda back and forth to keep the railroad men at bay.

With a burst of yellow smoke and the sulfury smell of gunpowder, Mr. Chamberlain appeared on top of one of the menagerie wagons. Robed in his Indian conjurer regalia, minus mustache and eyebrows, he spewed bursts of fire from his fingertips, revealing a pair of teamsters on either side of him, armed with muskets. “Back, you sons of Erin!” he shouted. “Or I shall unleash all the serpents your Saint Patrick drove from your cursed island.” In front of the wagon Mr. Sharp juggled his torches, the whirling flames making the painted snakes on the wagon seem to writhe, while Mr. Dale fumbled with a ring of keys at the door. Daniel was glad that the railroaders didn't know the threat was empty; Mr. Dale had a positive terror of snakes.

All along the caravan, horses screamed and stamped their feet, and some reared in the traces. Daniel thanked God that Mr. Stocking's incombustibility lessons had caught on so well. Most of the horses were immune to pyrotechnics and theatrics and stood their ground, albeit uneasily, perhaps wondering what new sort of performance this was. A few, however, bolted away into the night, dragging their rigs and struggling drivers behind. The remaining teamsters and performers took refuge on top of the wagons and pelted the railroaders with rocks.

Daniel tried to sort out where his help was most needed, but the melee was already nearly over. Forced back by fear of the bear and panther, the showers of stones, and the threat of firearms and serpents, the railroaders retreated into the night.

“Well, that was fun.” Mr. Chamberlain appeared at Daniel's side, dusting off his hands. The smell of sulfur still clung to him. “They thought they were coming to break a few heads. Bet they didn't count on getting eaten, did they?”

“Fun?” Daniel said. “Is it entirely mad you are?”

“No doubt.” The conjurer chuckled. “I do find a narrow escape stimulating to the circulation. Others, I suppose, might not agree.” He gestured toward Mr. Dale, who leaned limply
against the reptile wagon, mopping his brow. The juggler's face constricted with a sudden spasm, and he turned and puked onto the road.

Billy had never hated Da so much. He'd made a right proper mess of the show. Two wagons had broken against the rocks when their horses had bolted, and one of Mr. Lamb's beautiful antelopes had escaped and the other one had been killed when their wagon crashed. Philo Ruggles had twisted his ankle leaping down from a wagon, two of the teamsters were nursing cracked heads, and the panther had dragged Mr. Kellogg a good fifty yards and nearly gotten loose entirely. The worst of it all, though, was that one of Da's friends had hurt Mr. S. And that she could never forgive.

“You're sure you're all right?” Mr. S. kept asking her. But he was the one limping, his face as pale as ever she'd seen it. A tendril of blood oozed down his forehead, and his spectacles were twisted and missing a lens. He insisted that naught was wrong with him, and that he needed to help Mr. C. assess the damage. Daniel grabbed him by the collar and forced him to sit down and let his cut be tended.

“What about your ponies?” Mr. S. asked, as Daniel dabbed the gash on the peddler's forehead with a damp cloth. His face looked strangely naked and vulnerable without his glasses.

“They'll keep,” Daniel said. He tipped his head toward the six dark shapes lined up next to them. “I fancy they've been taking a bit of a nap.”

“Through all this hullabaloo?” Mr. S. said.

“Barely moved a muscle.” Billy heard the pride in Daniel's voice. “Even Kelpie. Absolutely incombustible.”

Billy was relieved to see the old spark return to the peddler's eyes. He grabbed Daniel's forearm with one hand and Billy's shoulder with the other. “You fellas done me proud,” he said. Billy felt a tremor in the affectionate squeeze that he gave her.

“Hey, Jonny, look what we found!” Mr. C. called out. The conjurer and a half dozen teamsters approached, shoving one of the railroad workers toward them. “This one was still skulking around.”

Billy recognized his gait even before the light fell on his face.
Da
. Her stomach churned as though a puke were coming on.

“I want me girl,” Da said, trying to shake off the men's grip. “I'll not be leaving without her.” The men released him but formed a tight semicircle around him so he couldn't escape.

Da came toward her and fell on his knees. “Nuala, me love,” he said, his eyes soft as faded blue flannel. “It'll be different this time, I swear. I've learned me lesson for sure and all.”

“I don't know you,” she said, steeling herself against his pleas. She crossed her arms and planted her feet solidly, trying to will away the griping in her guts.

“I'd not be lying to you now that you're all I have left in the world,” Da pleaded. And Lord help him, were those real tears in his eyes?

Liam had finally done it, she thought.
Someday, Nuala
, he used to say.
Someday, I'll take you and the lads away somewhere he'll not touch us again
. It seemed that someday had come at last.
Good for Liam
, she thought, sorry that she hadn't been there to help.

“Liam and the lads're gone, Nuala,” Da said, crossing himself. “Gone to be with your mam. God rest 'em.” The tears spilling down his cheeks were real. He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

She fought back a new wave of nausea. It was another lie. Liam would never let anything happen to Jimmy and Mick. But fear gripped her stomach tighter, forcing her to step back and steady herself against the wagon. Mr. S. stood closer and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, me darling lass.” Da rose to a crouch, his hands on his thighs so that his red-rimmed eyes were on the same level as hers. “Liam and Jimmy and Mick are all gone, love. All three of 'em took by fever and naught I could do about it. Gone just like your blessed mam. It's just you and me left, sweetheart.” He reached out for her.

“Liar!” she screamed, lunging past Mr. S. and shoving Da so hard that he staggered into one of the teamsters. “You goddamned lying bastard!” She backed into a round, soft body. Mr.
S.'s arms came around to hold and soothe her. She pushed him aside. If she accepted his comfort, she'd have to accept Da's lies. She huddled against one of the ponies, hugging herself tight, crouching around the storm in her guts.

“Nuala!” Da's voice balanced on that razor-sharp edge between hurt and anger that she knew so well. “Is that any way to talk to your da? Whyever would I be lying?”

“You're lying so's I'll feel sorry and go with you,” she said. Da's mouth tightened, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip. “You done the same to Liam, didn't you? Told him I was dead, didn't you? When you come home without me.” She filled her voice with the same venom that burned her guts. “Aye, that's what you done. You couldn't tell him you'd sold me away, so you told him I was dead.”

“That's enough,” Da said, no longer pleading.

“You did! Otherwise he'd'a come looking for me. I know he would.” She surged toward him with doubled fists. “And now you're lying to me just the same.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Da shouted. He struck a blow that would have knocked her flat, had Daniel not stepped between them to block it. Billy put her arms over her head and let Mr. S. shelter her as Mr. C. and the teamsters pulled Da away from her.

She heard something that sounded like grunting, and she looked up to see Da with his hands over his face, shuddering with sobs. “Sweet Jesus,” he said, catching his breath. He lowered his hands slowly, stared down at them trembling in front of him. “Sweet Jesus, I'm sorry, so sorry, love.” He clenched and unclenched his hands, then rubbed them hard against his thighs, tucked them under his arms, put them behind his back, as if trying to disown what they'd done. “I'll never do it again, I swear to God,” he said. “It'll be different, I promise. If only you hadn'a made me so angry. You shouldn'a said such things to a grieving man.”

“It's true, then. He really is her father,” one of the teamsters said.

“He's not!” Billy put her hands over her ears and huddled deeper into Mr. S.'s embrace.

The peddler tucked Billy's head under his chin and held her tightly, rocking her the way Mam used to. “Is that any kind of father you'd want to give a child to?” he said.

“Look, mister, if she doesn't want to go with you, I won't force her,” Mr. C. said. “If you want some compensation for your troubles, I'm willing to pay—”

“Oh, no. I'll not be selling her off again so easy. That'd be leaving you with the golden goose, wouldn't it?” Da said.

“It's the money, not the lass you're wanting,” Daniel accused. “And for a second I was almost feeling sorry for you.” Billy heard him spit in the dirt, then she heard the sound of a scuffle, but she didn't want to look up from the comfort of Mr. S.'s arms.

“Take him away, boys,” Mr. C. said. “A long ways away.”

“I'll be back,” Da shouted. “I'll be back with the law, and I'll have me daughter, that I will.” His cries receded beneath the curses of the teamsters dragging him away.

All the while, Mr. S. continued to rock her, rubbing her back and making shushing noises. “It's all right, sweetheart,” he finally said. “He's gone. We're not going to let him take you.”

“It is a lie, isn't it?” she asked. “All that he said about Liam and Jimmy and Mick.”

Mr. S. exchanged a cryptic glance with Daniel. “Of course it is,” Mr. S. said. “Of course it's a lie.” But Daniel just turned his head away and began tending to the ponies.

“You were right, son. This is what comes of all my charades and foolery,” Jonathan said as he took a new pair of spectacles from the box that Daniel had fetched from his wagon. They promptly misted over from the chill air, and he had to take them off and wipe them with his handkerchief before trying them again. Daniel's face was no longer a blur, but the new lenses seemed to increase the throbbing in Jonathan's head. He put them aside and tried another pair, careful to rub them warm before putting them on. He glanced at Billy. “If I'd'a made you stay with Sophie, you'd be safe with her now instead of—”

“No, sir,” Daniel said. “She'd'a run away from your cousin, and she'd be God-only-knows-where by now.”

“Don't fret about it, Jonny,” Fred said. He conjured up two glasses and a bottle and poured out a dollop of brandy for himself and Jonathan. “That fella won't be back. Men like that don't turn to the law for help.”

“But if he does, we're bound to lose.” Jonathan watched Billy, unnaturally silent as she stared morosely into the sputtering fire. “Fred, I think we need to part company.”

“Over a little hubbub like this? You know me better than that,” Fred said. “I'll stand by you as long as—”

“Not willing to let the golden goose go, either?” Jonathan took a swallow of brandy to warm his insides before he continued. “No, I think some of us had better split up until we see the lay of the land. I have a suspicion that fella'll be dogging our heels until he gets Billy back. I think maybe Dan'l had better take her on down to Sophie's.”

Billy roused from her stupor to glare at him, opening her mouth to object.