When the Curtain Rises (7 page)

In truth, my companions and I had expected some
thing more than the mud-clogged roads, dirty shacks
and weathered tents that greeted us, but we got over our
disappointment quickly. We weren't there for the city; we
were there to find gold. We lost no time unpacking our
shovels and racing for the creeks to stake our claims.

“You're too late, cheechakos,” someone jeered as we
passed. It was the name, we soon learned, that locals
called newcomers. “It's all gone. There's nothing left!” the voice shouted after us.

We spent two entire days trying to disprove the old
sourdough's words. Eventually the truth sank in. The
countryside had been staked for miles in every direction. There was nothing left to claim.

But I wasn't ready to give up. “There's more than one
way to collect gold,” I assured the others as we conferred
by our tent. “Let the claim holders break their backs dig
ging it out of the ground. We'll get our share another
way.”

“What do you have in mind?” Thomas asked suspiciously. “You aren't planning on stealing it, are you? Making it ‘disappear'?”

I smiled. “A little sleight of hand, perhaps, but no
stealing. Look around and what do you see? Men, thou
sands of them. Tired prospectors with too much money,
and discouraged cheechakos like us with not enough. What we all have in common is a need for some diversion, some entertainment. There are fortunes to be
made in the Klondike, my friends. And not all of them
will be dug out with shovels!”

We appointed Antoine our stage manager and assistant. He and Thomas sold our mining equipment and
used the proceeds to purchase props and more present
able clothing. After we'd shaved our beards and trimmed
each other's hair, we set out together to find a suitable
venue for our first performance in Dawson City. We
distributed handbills to every person we met, and two
nights later we performed in front of a packed audience
in the town hall.

The crowd was wildly appreciative from the start. Thomas had barely got his first dish in the air when a
tipsy Klondiker near the front started clapping. It was
contagious. By the climax of Thomas's act, as he juggled
half a dozen bottles of champagne, the entire audience
was on its feet. The cheering intensified when Li and
Antoine appeared on the platform together and took
their places ten paces apart. It was only as Li held up
his first knife that the audience fell temporarily silent. When the last of a dozen knives was embedded in the
wall behind Antoine, they began hooting and hollering
again until the entire hall was shaking.

I jumped on stage just as Li and Antoine were making
their exit. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” I
cried. By now the crowd had worked itself into a frenzy,
fueled by liquor and exhaustion. It was like yelling into
a thunderstorm.

Thomas joined me on stage. “We've got to get out of
here,” he shouted. “This place is about to explode!”

“These people paid for three acts, and I haven't per
formed the third act yet,” I yelled back.

“They're not even aware you're up here anymore. Look at them! They're about to riot!”

“I'd better get their attention quickly, then,” I said. I
raised my hands, and flames appeared at my fingertips,
accompanied by a deafening clap of thunder. The hall
immediately fell silent as every eye turned to the stage
to watch me manipulate the flames into one large ball
of fire that seemed to hover just above my outstretched
palms. My hands moved, and the flaming orb moved
with them. I traced slow circles in the air, and then I
clapped my hands abruptly to make the orb disappear.

Next I withdrew a small case from my cloak and
beckoned Thomas to join me again. I saw a mixture of
surprise and fear in Thomas's eyes as I opened the case
and took out a small gun.

Thomas shook his head. “No, Dante. You never said
anything about performing the ‘bullet catch' tonight. It's too dangerous!”

I ignored him. I was already holding the gun in the
air and calling for a volunteer from the spellbound
audience. A dozen men raised their hands. I pointed to
a bearded man who looked slightly less ragged than the
other trekkers and prospectors around him. The crowd
parted in front of him, and he climbed onto the stage.

“Sir,” I pronounced in a voice that carried to the very
back of the hall, “I have in my hands a pistol. It is a
real firearm, loaded with a single live bullet. For the
benefit of the audience, would you please inspect this
pistol and the ammunition inside it.” When the volunteer was finished his inspection, I took the gun back
and unloaded the bullet from its chamber. “I will now
ask you to mark this bullet for the purposes of identification,” I said. I waited while the man withdrew a
small knife from his pocket and scratched something
on the bullet. As the man watched, I returned the bullet
to its chamber. “Thank you,” I said, bowing slightly. “If
you would now hand this pistol to my assistant and
stand off to the side, I will prepare to perform the most
amazing feat any magician has ever undertaken.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said when Thomas had
received the gun, “pay close attention. My partner will
fire the pistol, and I will catch the bullet in my teeth. The danger you perceive is real. My life depends on my
partner's steady hand and my own skill. Any error, no
matter how slight, could prove fatal.”

With trembling hands, Thomas raised the pistol. I
crossed myself and nodded to show that I was ready. I saw Thomas close his eyes, and his lips moved for a
moment. Then he opened his eyes again and took aim. I crumpled to the floor the instant the shot rang out. For the benefit of the audience, I waited a few seconds
before staggering to my feet again. I opened my lips to
reveal the bullet held between my teeth. Then I spat
the bullet onto a plate and called my volunteer back on
stage to verify that it was the same one.

“That's it,” the bearded man said in amazement. “That's the bullet I marked.” That was all the audience
needed to hear. The hall erupted in cheering and loud
applause.

After that performance, my companions and I had
no trouble drawing eager crowds. We rotated our way
through one venue after another: saloons, beer parlors, dance halls and theaters. But as the gold rush
peaked and passed, our audiences began to dwindle. In
the spring of 1900, we made the decision to return to
civilization with the wealth we had accumulated. We
boarded a steamship and sailed south to Vancouver,
eagerly discussing plans for the next chapter of our
lives.

Chloe found herself abruptly back in the present, staring at the blank space that followed the end of the last passage. She thumbed through the remaining pages of Dante's book. They were all blank. Dante had written nothing more.

C
hapter
S
even

“B
ut there has to be more,” Chloe insisted when she joined her great-aunts at breakfast the next morning. “Dante's story can't end in Vancouver. What about you? What about this house?”

“Dante's story doesn't end there,” Kitty agreed as she spooned sugar into her tea. “Unfortunately, what you read is all he managed to record before he disappeared. I'm sure he meant to finish it.”

“What happened after he left the Klondike? Did he start his own show? When did he meet your mother?”

Kitty smiled. “Even from this distance he's charmed you, hasn't he? That's one thing Dante was especially good at, charming people.”

Bess dabbed at her lips with a napkin and abruptly stood up from the table. “There was nothing charming about our father's behavior. He abandoned his wife and children without a word. It's not a fairy tale, Kitty. Why you're dredging up the past at all is beyond me.”

“I'm sorry,” Chloe said, horrified. But Bess was already halfway through the door.

“Oh, don't mind her,” Kitty said, reaching over to pat Chloe's hand. “Bess has never really forgiven our father. She bristles every time his name comes up, even all these years later. But don't worry—she may be a little annoyed with me, but she's not angry at you.”

“I didn't mean to pry,” said Chloe. “I'm sorry.”

“Nonsense,” said Kitty. “You have every right to know your family history. That's why I gave you Dante's memoir in the first place.” The old woman paused to take a sip of her tea. “As to what happened after Dante returned to Vancouver, I can only tell you what our father told our mother and what she passed on to us. Dante asked his companions to join him in forming a new traveling show. The company grew as they traveled east by rail over the prairies. By the time they reached the Great Lakes, Dante had founded the
Carnival
des Grands Lacs
.”

Chloe shifted in her seat. “It must have been successful, if he built this house.”

“It was reasonably successful, financially speaking,” said Kitty. “Dante was very good with money. He paid his performers fairly and invested the rest in timber and sawmills and mines. He did very well. He could have retired quite comfortably after just a few years on the road.”

“But Dante didn't retire, did he?” Chloe asked.

“No. It wasn't money Dante was after; it was fame. He was still determined to become the world's greatest magician.”

“When did he meet your mother?” Chloe asked.

“Well, now that's a story,” Kitty said with a smile. “In 1909, our mother, Magdala, was working as a servant for a wealthy family in Toronto. It wasn't Magdala's idea to visit the carnival when it came to town—one of the other servants she worked with talked her into it.”

“And Magdala saw Dante perform and fell in love with him,” Chloe concluded.

Kitty laughed. “It wasn't just our mother who fell in love with Dante—almost every woman who saw him fell under his spell. Dante was already in his early forties by this time, but he was still quite a presence. Remember, my dear, this was before the age of movie stars. It was a rare thing to see such a handsome man, such a talented performer.” Kitty's eyes had gone soft as she stared at a point somewhere past Chloe's shoulder. “Dante's act was pure enchantment. He threw scarves into the air and they became doves. He walked through a full-length mirror and disappeared. When Magdala was in the audience on that spring day in 1909, he invited her to sit in an ornate chair on stage and made the chair levitate and spin. As the chair descended, rose petals fell from the air all over our mother. She was spellbound, of course.”

Bess appeared suddenly in the doorway, her hands on her hips. “Spellbound, enchantment! Really, Kitty, if you're going to tell our parents' story, the least you can do is leave out all the romantic nonsense.”

“Were you listening at the door?” said Kitty.

“I was not,” said Bess. “Since Abigail is out this morning, I was tidying up the kitchen. You project your voice as if you were still on the stage, Kitty. I couldn't block it out if I wanted to.”

“Well, then,” Kitty said, “if you don't like the way I'm telling the story, why don't
you
tell it?”

Bess was already taking her seat again. “I will.” She sniffed. “It's the only way Chloe is going to hear anything like the truth. Now where had you left off?”

“Magdala had just seen Dante's act for the first time,” said Chloe.

“Ah, yes,” said Bess. “Despite what Kitty said about Magdala falling under Dante's spell, our mother was quite a sensible young woman. She wasn't one of those swooners or heart-clutchers. Maybe that's what our father saw in her: someone practical to balance his own rash and reckless nature.”

“The fact that she was so young and pretty probably didn't hurt, either,” Kitty interrupted.

“At any rate, Magdala didn't pursue Dante,” said Bess. “It was very much the other way around.”

Kitty nodded, her eyes bright. “Dante brought her flowers, took her out for evening meals, arranged mid-day picnics in the park. He was very persistent. He called on Magdala every day for two weeks, and then he proposed. She said yes, of course.”