Leaving Flat Iron Creek

CHAPTER FOUR

Two months later on a late August afternoon, I heard hot sluggish notes from brassy horns seeping out the open side panels of the big tent. The lot was virtually deserted, and a dog day’s wind whipped the dust and straw around. The only other sound on the lot was an occasional clang of the blacksmith’s hammer striking his anvil.

Someone kicked the bale of hay that I was laying on, and I rubbed my eyes in the glaring sun and spotted muscular arealist Rudolph and his wife, Raina, on their way to the cookhouse.

As I turned Ralph, one of Shorty’s assistants snarled, “Yeah, asshole, she’s hot potatoes for the likes of. You think you’re pretty hot shit around here,” He pushed me, “Mr.Williams pet. Him giving you McCann’s team. You waited too long to turn them over to Shorty, who was senior and earned ’em. I’m pissed ’cause you insulted him.”

Ralph constantly tried to pick a fight with me, but I wasn’t going risk my job for the likes of him. I walked away toward the cookhouse, and he glared at me. It was my good luck that Ralph noticed me looking at them because he thought I was admiring Raina but I just could not keep my eyes off of Rudolph. I occasionally caught him looking my way. Our eyes would lock and quickly turn away. When he and Raina were together they acted like I was invisible. I saw their full act for the first time during our run in Chicago. It was beautiful and frightening at the same time. After the finale, they ran out of the tent with satin cape sailing behind them. I stumbled into the von Leuvenfeld aerialist troupe a few minutes later when they posed for a group photograph for a Chicago newspaper.

“Out of the way,” hollered the photographer.

His comment made the entire troupe look my way, and both Rudolph and Raina shot me smiles. After the pictures, the catcher draped his arm around her shoulder, which she quickly threw off. She intentionally walked right by me.

“O-h-h, Mr. Horseman,” Raina said flirtatiously, “it’s you.” Rudolph followed close behind her and gave me a mysterious smile as he ran his tongue over his upper lip.

My heart jumped to my throat making me grin like a shy school kid. Raina was a serious, stoic athlete with distinctive Germanic features--widely spaced but piercing blue eyes, cropped white blond hair, and sharp cheek and chin bones. She was five feet two inches tall with highly defined muscles. Her small breasts barely disturbed the contour of her costume. Rudolph did not appear to have an ounce of fat on his trim body. He, like Raina, has piercing sky blue eyes and short blond hair. More than once I noticed that his dick made more of an impression on his costume than did Raina’s breasts.

These days we slowly wandered across the Great Plains. Workers and bosses were edgy because we hadn’t been sold out with a “straw” house since Madison. Crowds in Wisconsin and Minnesota had been reasonable, but not large. Iowa was a disappointment, and mosquitoes and black flies out numbered the audience much of the time.

By September, I missed home. I wanted Mother’s fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy as well as my soft bed in the attic. On the farm, work was done in the daylight, but on the circus the work was day and night. It was dirty and backbreaking work, but I never complained because there was little sympathy from others. I thought of home frequently because harvest time approached, and I had promised Thad I would come home. Instead, I sent money to Father so he could hire someone.

Mother wrote once a week. The pink envelope stuck out in the pile of mail as it was passed out. The length of the letter never varied, and I smiled at her efficiency. Mother managed to fill every line on the front side of the page, but rarely wrote on backside. Her exactly planned words always covered the subject and that was all. Her words revealed that little changed in Indiana. In a recent letter she indicated Laureen had been out to the farm, but in her last letter she wrote that Laureen had returned to college to prepare for a new semester. When she left questions unanswered, I wrote back but not regularly. She answered my questions in the next letter. Her words tethered me to home but by fall her tone was different. I read between the lines her disappointment in me for not coming home to help Father.

Somewhere in Iowa I noticed a groom named Avery, who had the blackest skin I had ever seen. He hung around my horses, and the horses seemed comforted by the firm grip of his giant black hands. Avery didn’t hesitate getting close to horses. Avery volunteered to become my assistant but since I didn’t have a team I couldn’t agree. It was several more days before to saw Mr. Williams in the horse tent. He came toward me.

“Seth, “Williams said, “I want you to get a new checkerboard team in shape.”

“You want me to put together a four or a six?”

“Try for four, but I want a six as soon as the right horses can be found.”

I knew the horses I brought back from Indiana had been dispersed as soon as we had arrived in Chicago. I suspected those were the horses he was thinking about. He expected me to get four of the best stock together. I had kept track of some of the horses as they were substituted into various teams. I wanted the best six, but that was going to be hard since one of the old teamsters, Topeka, had latched onto the best black mare. She was the first horse we had hitched that day at Brotgrader’s farm. My vague silence caused Mr. Williams to comment,“Something wrong?”

“Topeka’s already got one of the best blacks from my Indiana trip in his team,” I replied.

“He knows good horse flesh, too,” Williams said. “I said get the team together. I want a perfect checkerboard.”

“Can I pick a first assistant?”

“Yeah.”

Word traveled fast that I had been given my own team. As I walked away from the red wagon, I thought about what I would do. I could hitch three as a unicorn with a black out front and see if they would work together. Williams had said he eventually wanted a well-matched team of six black and white horses. I decided to talk to old Jake in the blacksmith’s wagon to see if there was a chance of getting new harness for four. I had heard some discussion that an order of thirty or forty new sets of harness was expected.

I was deep in thought when I rounded the back corner of Wagon 86 and literally knocked Ralph off his feet. He jumped at me and pushed me backward. I fell over a hay bale.

“Sorry, wasn’t watching where I was going,” I said.

Ralph had no intention of accepting my apology and came after me. I quickly scrambled to my feet. He acted like he wanted me to throw a fist his way. I obliged, throwing a right cross that caught him under the chin. He went down and struggled to get to his feet. The blow stunned him. He wanted revenge and lunged at me with his two hundred twenty pound body. I stepped to the right, and he missed me completely. But he caught me from behind as I turned to face him. I staggered and fell forward.

“Break it up,” someone shouted. “Cool down. You’ll get yourself fired. Ralph, he didn’t mean to run into you.” Several men pulled us apart, and I brushed myself off.

“William’s asshole pretty boy. Now he has his own team. That one should ’a been yours, Haskins.”

I opened my mouth and tasted the rusty iron taste of blood on my tongue. I was not going to let him embarrass me in front of these men. “

“Wait a minute, I earned my team. No one gave it to me. Anyway man what’s your gripe with me? I’m doing my job.” I moved closer to my agitator.

“Ralph, get it off your chest. I’m not going to have you carping behind my back. What’s your gripe?”

He turned and stalked away without a word

“Don’t worry about him, he’s a trouble maker,” Haskins said.

“I don’t want trouble. I just want to do my job. Anyway, I need help.”

Most of the men drifted away, but Haskins was one of the few who remained.

“It’s true what Ralph said. I do get to create a new team,” I said, realizing Ralph had to have known about me getting my team before I did. “Mr. Williams told me to put together a salt and pepper four or six-up with the horses I brought back from Indiana. Topeka’s got one of the blacks in his team. Got any idea how I can get that horse which really belongs with my team?”

One teamster said, “All I can say is I’m glad it’s not me approachin’ Topeka. He’s got a short fuse.”

“My advice is to be straight forward,” said Haskins, who had worked with Topeka. He doesn’t like bullshit. But he loves good cigars.”

“Haskins, would you like to be my assistant and second driver? I’ll give you plenty of driving time, or as much as I can.“He turned and started to walk away.

`“What about that kid Jonesy, I think his name is Avery?”

I thought no one noticed that Avery was helping me.

“Oh he’ll be with us as soon as the six is ready. What’d you say?”

“I do want my own team, so don’t count on me too long.”

“I won’t.”

I got four new sets of harness even though old Jake had twenty reasons why I shouldn’t get any new harness. He almost convinced me to wait until I had the horses secured, but I was determined to get the right horses so I knew I would need the harness soon. I persisted and he relented as he chewed on a soggy wet cigar. Haskins and I searched for horses. Inside the horse tent, most of the horses stood quietly. Several white Percherons stood apart from the rest. Haskins and I examined the horses. We were joined by old Jake who lectured us on the virtues of each horse.

“Legs too short, neck too long, not enough flair to their bottoms when moving.”

I agreed with his conclusion about necks and legs. After several minutes of discussion, we led two young white mares outside. Haskins asked him about extra blacks.

“Oh, this is for the salt and pepper Williams told me about. You puttin’ it together,” Jake said to Haskins.

“Not me, him,” Haskins said.

“Son come over here,” Jake said. “You need to speak with Topeka, He’s been using one of the blacks that you have to have.”

We talked about blacks for a while longer as we walked around the team. The cookhouse bugle sounded and Jake headed off. Haskins had spotted one good looking black standing unharnessed with McCann’s eight. I thought he would match one of the whites in the lead, if he could lead. We still needed Topeka’s black in the wheel.

At supper, I asked Haskins where I could get some good cigars.

“You’re pretty quick, Seth,” he said

“Keep your eyes open for the next couple of days as we go through towns. I’ll pay for them if you find them first,” I said.

NEXT CHAPTER