The train swayed back and forth as I looked out across the half-moon lit North Dakota landscape. I could sleep in the bunk provided to me for fifteen cents a day, but I did so infrequently, preferring to stretch out on the pebble-covered planks under Wagon 86. The smell and noise of sixty men who worked all day with horses and constantly smoked cigarettes did not appeal to me, but the fifteen-cent charge also included a drawer that gave me a safe place for shirts, underwear and a few pair of socks. It was a small but important personal space in this mobile world.
We moved slowly toward the West Coast. The land was flat. When we crossed a river, it seemed like a swamp. There was so little change in elevation in this state that water wasn’t easily carried downstream. I saw a few intermittent scrub trees, but the land was vast and mostly barren.
We made our way toward California with scheduled stops in Canada, Washington, and Oregon. I knew a few people who had been to California, and they spoke of the grandeur, the vista, and the ocean. I wanted to see these for myself and was excited about the prospect. My eyes opened with difficulty to the first gray light of the morning visible miles behind our train. I slept with my head toward the front of the train, catching a thirty-five miles per hour breeze created by the forward motion of the train. I loved to hear the clicking and clacking of the steel wheels crossing the joints in the rails and squealing in the turns, air brakes hissing, and the coyotes barking. When the train stopped to let a freight pass, I heard bull frogs, crickets, and many critters that I could never identify. The ride never seemed long enough.
The train slowed to a crawl, and I rose and watched as we rolled into Fargo. I stowed my dirty blue and white-checked wool blanket in a small box underneath 86. The box was never used because it required crawling under the wagon to get to it. The box gave me a convenient place to store my bedding. I stretched my arms toward the sky to pull the tightness from my muscles, listening to the creaks and moans as wagons pushed forward against the chocks that kept them stable as they rode on flatcars. I knew which sounds were normal.
One night, as we left a town, I heard a piece of gravel crack under a wheel. That meant the chocks were loose. The chocking crew had probably become distracted as they moved from wagon to wagon and had forgotten to pound the wooden chock into place. I heard another wheel move. I crawled quickly from underneath 86 and climbed up top to find the brake set. Then I checked the chocks by touch to see if they were set and discovered only one of the four chock blocks that kept the wheels from rolling backward was near its respective wheel. Without a sledge hammer, all I could do was to try to jam the blocks under the wheels with my feet. I did not sleep well that night.
But with everything in order last night, I crawled on top of 86 to watch the sunrise as we rolled into Fargo, and the light of early dawn silhouetted a few trees that grew along the tracks. The train slowed to no more than ten miles per hour when I detected a familiar sound moving toward me. The cars ahead moved onto a railroad trestle. I leaned over the side of the car, peering intently at the terrain below. In ten seconds, we moved on and off the trestle. Clicks and clacks changed to rumbles as we passed over switches and blocks, and the train slowly stopped.
I jumped down and walked forward toward our stock car. Our horses rode immediately behind the engine and coal tender of our cut. Other men who had ridden under the stars joined me. Only the sound of feet shuffling through the ballast gravel disturbed the morning stillness. When I got to the stock car, a groom opened the door and leaned against it. Avery jumped into the doorway.
“Ready to unload?” I asked him.
“Ain’t got the word,” he said. “Maybe we’re movin’ up.”
I wanted to feed and water our horses before everyone else got there. Shorty and Ralph walked to the car because McCann’s eight also rode in our car.
“Hello, kid,” Shorty said.
“How ya doin’ Shorty?”
“Today is the day to get that horse from Topeka. He won big at poker last night. He’ll be in a good mood.”
Shorty almost never spoke, so I was surprised he addressed me. The prospect of finally getting my team together excited me. The tired old black mare I had in the right wheel position was a disgrace. She was so slow that she held the other three back. We pulled our team out of the car first, but Haskins wasn’t around. I didn’t think much about it at the time. We positioned ourselves with two or three other teams waiting for the runs to be set. The cook house wagons were first off, and we pulled all the wagons off the train with twenty teams, about half the normal number, by nine-thirty. As I drove wagon after wagon to the circus lot, I planned my approach to Topeka. I didn’t have any cigars but thought about going into town and buying them because we had a free afternoon.
Avery and I watered and fed grain and hay to the horses when I spotted Raina and Rudolph going to breakfast. She waved, he smiled and I cautiously returned the gesture. We walked back to the Pullman where Haskins had his berth, but he wasn’t there. The porter said that he had not seen him all night.
“Do you think he missed the train?”
Avery just shrugged his shoulders. The day proceeded just as I had planned. I found a drugstore that carried tobacco products and asked the pharmacist for two of the best cigars, paying twenty-five cents for them.
I walked through the main part of town on my way back to the lot. The sky was a robin’s egg blue, with a few clouds as spots on the robin’s egg shell. When I returned, Avery told me Haskins was still missing, and the mystery began to trouble me even though I knew I shouldn’t be concerned. People appeared and disappeared regularly without explanation on the circus. Haskins seemed unusually nervous yesterday before we left for Fargo. Ralph constantly threw vulgar barbs at him since he agreed to be my second driver.
The flag remained up at the cookhouse, so I stopped for a cup of coffee. I walked in and spotted Topeka sitting with a couple of other teamsters at one end of a long table covered with a red and white checkered table cloth. I sat with the teamsters and hoped that I might get my chance with Topeka.
“Any of you fellows seen my assistant, Haskins?” I asked, interrupting an unimportant conversation. There was a chorus of heads moving side-to-side.
Shorty said, “I saw him last night with Ralph after we finished loading. They seemed to be having an argument. I didn’t think it was any of my business so I didn’t interfere. Haven’t seen him since.”
A muffled conversation restarted. I had forgotten my original intent until my left arm brushed across the cigars sticking out of a pocket in my overalls. The moment seemed right.
“I wonder if I can try that young black mare you have been using in your team,” I said to Topeka. “I am putting together a salt and pepper hitch?”
“Which one?” he snapped back.
“You’ve been using her as your left swing occasionally.”
I noticed that he was eyeing the two large cigars in my pocket.
“I’ll trade one day’s use for one of those cigars,” he said.
“Two cigars, two days.” “
“Kid, you’re pretty quick. OK, but don’t pull her out until I get over there. I want to see this team you’re putting together. I’ll decide if she is right.”
In a more serious tone, Shorty said, “Yeah kid, watch yourself around Ralph. Know what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“He’s after you, and I can’t figure out why. Watch yourself.”
“I wonder if there was a fight between Ralph and Haskins,” I said.
“Could have been, I don’t know.”
We got up from the table as steward picked up the cups and plates. The sun inched its way toward afternoon as we were headed outside, where rubes milled around waiting for the sideshow to open.
Topeka walked over to the horse tent with me. He first wanted to see which three horses I had for the hitch. He inspected each and then walked over to his line, where at least ten black horses were tied together.
“Barney,” Topeka said to his groom, “Newman wants to use one of my horses for a couple of days. She’s one of the swings. The new one.”
I was surprised Topeka knew my name and the horse I wanted. Barney walked straight to the horse and backed him out of the line. We stood in the semi-dark tent inspecting the horse when Williams arrived.
“So you’re finally getting around to putting a first class team together,” he said.
“I am simply borrowing one of Topeka’s blacks for a couple of days,” I responded, making no mention of the cigars.
“Seth, the police from Lincoln called,” Williams said seriously. “They found your assistant, Haskins, badly beaten up. It must have happened after we left last night. They’ve got him in the hospital. You know who might have done it?”
I told him I didn’t have any knowledge of what happened, but my blood boiled because I knew Ralph and his thugs had to be involved. Everyone knew Williams gave Ralph plenty of latitude. I kept my composure and asked him for permission to hitch the new team since the day was fairly relaxed. Williams told me to hitch 86 since it was empty and close by and asked us to keep our ears open about the beating.
After he walked away, Topeka grabbed my shoulder and looked straight into my eyes. “Listen, kid, don’t try to deal with this yourself. There are plenty of us who share your feelings about Ralph. He’s obnoxious and tough, but someone in management likes him because he gets away with too much. Be careful.”
By the time I found Avery, got the horses matched with their harness, and hitched to 86, the lunch flag flew above the cookhouse. I decided to skip food altogether I didn’t want to take a fresh, untried team onto a crowded midway. I called to Avery to get us ready.
“Want me to go? I’m hungry!”
I swung my head from side to side with a “no” and asked a local sheriff who stood near the cookhouse tent waiting for a free meal to suggest a route that would lead me out of town. The horses fidgeted, and I wanted to get off the circus lot as soon as possible. I squirmed in my seat as Avery checked the bits. Since Topeka hadn’t given the new horse a name, I decided to call him Travis in honor of McCann. I looked out over the shoulders, heads, and haunches of my well portioned team of Percherons--three females and one gelding. . The left lead was Whitey, the right lead Mavis while the left wheel was Indy, I guess named after the state, and the right wheel Travis. Avery pitched the last line up, and I was ready to go without an assistant.
“Can we ride along?” asked a heavily accented male voice rose from the side of the wagon. Raina and Rudolph stood beside the wagon’s front wheel. I stared at them.
“Well, cowboy, what do you say?” Raina called up.
“Climb up,” I said flatly, holding the lines tightly as they nimbly mounted the steps leading to the wagon seat. Rudolph handed a basket to Raina, who leaned far over to reach it. I instinctively grabbed her belt to keep her from falling head first onto the ground. I did not need a performer falling off my wagon. I steadied her as she hoisted a woven basket with a white linen napkin covering the contents. As she set it between us, Rudolph almost flew up to the top of the wagon.
Before the team completely settled, I said, “Whitey; Mavis, step up.” The horses moved ahead but the wagon didn’t. I realized the brake was still on and called to Rudolph to loosen it. He turned the red brake wheel. We immediately rolled smoothly in the direction of the railroad yard. Plenty of people roamed the street even though the main part of town was in the other direction. The horses’ hooves kicked up the dirt as we moved into the street, but a stiff summer breeze blew the dust away from us.
The team pulled beautifully together and held their heads high. All the people around stopped to watch the horses and listen to the giant wheel hubs clunking on the axles. Raina and Rudolph got into the act and started waving and saying hello to the onlookers.
“This is what it must have felt like when the circus did daily street parades,” I said. “Too bad they stopped.”
We all agreed. Remembering the sheriff’s directions, I turned onto a road that ran parallel to the railroad tracks. The road gradually descended to the river that we had crossed earlier in the morning.
“Sorry we don’t know your name,” Rudolph said.
“Seth Newman,” I spat as I watched my leads “Be ready to apply the brakes as we go down the grade.”
Raina’s lips silently repeated my name.
“I’m Rudolph but everyone calls me Rudi.”
“OK, Rudi turn the brake wheel to the right a half turn and hold it.
The grade was long and gentle, and I saw a bridge ahead. My heart raced and the sweat broke out on my forehead. It looked like a new concrete bridge, plenty wide, but I wanted to be prepared if the sound of the hooves hitting the concrete deck startled the horses. Rudi instinctively applied more brake as the horses became jumpy as we crossed the bridge.
As the lead horses stepped onto the solid surface, their ears perked up. They did not act like they were going to run. But when the wagon rumbled up onto the concrete surface, Travis tried to bolt. “Apply full brakes,” I hollered.
Rudi did, and the horses strained but settled down.
“Release the brake.”
Rudi reacted immediately, and my team moved quickly moved across the bridge. On the opposite side, I stopped the horses.
“That was exciting!” Raina said.
“Enough excitement for several days,” I responded, explaining that the team was new and this was their first trip together. I apologized for not knowing about the bridge, and they just laughed.
“Seth, park ze wagon!” Raina ordered. “Ve vant to have a picnic.”
At first, I pleaded that I could not leave the team, suggesting that they get off and I would pick them up later.
“No, no, no,” Raina insisted. “Ve vant you to join our picnic. Drive us down zu ze river,” she commanded. I surveyed the terrain and decided to head for flat ground one hundred yards ahead to turn the wagon around rather than turn sharply down the bank on the left side of the road.
Ten minutes later, the team lumbered along the well-marked path beside the river. We saw several carriages and wagons ahead and heard laughter coming from the river. A half-mile further down the path, I spotted two trees about the right distance apart for a tie line. I turned the wagon around to make hitching easier since I had to do it myself. The big wagon lurched and swayed as I made a tight circle with the horses pointed toward the bushes. I hoped they would stand still since Rudi would have to hold the lines while I strung the rope. The sweat returned to my brow.
“Set the brake. Hold the lines, and don’t pull back,” I said intent on quickly getting a rope strung between the two trees. Raina detected my apprehension, and she was on the ground as soon as I was.
We quickly strung a rope for a tie line and attached the four halter ropes to the horses bits. The rest was easy. We tied each horse a good distance from the other where they could reach fresh grass. They would be content for a while because the area was shaded and the flies were scarce.
Rudi smiled and reached the basket down before climbing down from the wagon seat. When I had a moment to think suddenly I felt out of place. They were performers, and I was a teamster. I had been told over and over that the two groups don’t mix.
“Does anyone have a watch?” Raina asked.
“Performance is at three,” Rudi warned.
No one had a watch. That fact added tension since we didn’t know quite when we left. The sun gave us a clue. It wasn’t much later than noon.
We walked slowly to the top of the embankment above the river. The bank gently sloped down toward the gravel at the waters edge. I slipped down to see if the water was deep enough for swimming and walked along the edge letting the water occasionally touch my boots. When I climbed up the slope I found Raina almost naked and Rudi stretched out without a stitch of clothing.
“Come on, let’s swim. We don’t have all day,” she chided both of us.
I hesitated, shrugged my shoulders, smiled and sat down to loosen my boots. I immediately remembered the first day in Indiana when this happened but it was without Raina. A whinny caused me to look toward the horses. I stopped momentarily, smiled as Rudi and Raina descended to the water. With my dick half hard I followed shaking my head. I knew Rudi and Raina were not married. I decided today was not a day to try to figure them out.
“What the hell,” I laughed, following Raina’s beautiful white butt. We stepped into the cool water, and a shiver went from my toes to my brain. With Rudi ahead of us she grabbed my hand, and we stepped across the gravel toward a pool upstream. I tried not to look at her as we moved toward the middle. In the distance, we saw three or four youngsters tossing rocks. We sank down in the water, I shivered again as the water reached my chest.
“Something you’re about to see may surprise you,” Rudi laughed as he stepped out onto the gravel bar. His stiff dick stood straight out. My was just as stiff but I kept it under water
“Cold vater didn’t take care of you guys!” Raina chuckled.
Raina told us she wanted to keep her hair dry, which only encouraged Rudi to send many handfuls of water her direction. We later retreated to a sunny spot upstream to lounge briefly. I was aware that the youngsters we had seen upstream were hiding in the bushes. I thought they should be so lucky.
“Let’s eat,” Rudi suggested.
I went to check the horses, and everything was fine. When I got back to the picnic, to my old sleeping blanket was spread out on the ground. Raina unwrapped some cheese, a loaf of bread and a few apples. A giant cottonwood tree provided plenty of shade but did not keep the flies away. We spoke few words as we ate and constantly brushed the flies away from our bodies. Rudi kept looking at me which kept me stiff. His situation was similar. When we finished lunch, Raina packed the basket and started sensually rubbing her breasts and letting her fingers slide provocatively down to her abdomen. Rudi’s hands moved to his dick which he began to methodically rub. My eyes were barely able to stay in my head. My dick head was dripping.
“I can’t believe we are doing this,” I accidently said loud enough for them to hear. That did not stop them. Raina walked in front of me and reached down to run her hands up and down my sides. I stood up. Before I knew what was happening Rudi was behind me with his dick wedged in my butt cheeks. I felt hot from blushing but didn’t move. I was waiting to see what would happen next. Raina moved closer until my dick touched her female opening. I felt Rudolph’s hand reach my dick and slowly start to stroke it. My mind told me that they had conspired to trap me.
Raina pulled me down and I knew I was headed for trouble. The dry grass tickled my butt. We moved inside the willow branches of a wonderful enclosure where the trees and bushes walled us in. Not even the flies had followed us. Rudi lay with us and his hands gently caressed my butt. I couldn’t see him but could feel his stiffness against my back. Blade by blade, I felt the cushion of grass that was our bed. Raina floated beside me with her right arm encircling my neck as she kissed my cheek and moved her hand slowly, softly over my bare chest. I had no control of the situation so I stroked her tight little breasts. She rolled herself on top of me and gave me a long, deep kiss. I felt Rudi mouth encircle my engorged manhood. She kissed me passionately and differently than I had even been kissed before. Our passion was intense.
I knew if Rudi did not stop very soon I was going to explore. I tried to pull away and he got more intense. My fingers moved from her breasts across her firm stomach and I found her warm, open womanhood. I pushed Rudi away and rolled on top of Raina. I noticed a bluebird on the low branches of a nearby bramble watching us. I was securely gloved inside of her. I moved slowly at first, feeling each stroke throughout my entire body.
We kissed and I pulled her tightly to me as the rhythm joyously progressed. I knew an explosion was imminent and pulled out of her and sent my seed into the grass. She kissed me even more passionately. I was limp. We stayed embraced for only a few minutes when she pulled Rudolph into her. He hesitated but quickly mounted her as I watched amazed at the casualness of the entire situation. His movement did not disturb my savoring the moment. He gave a loud grunt and continued to pump for another minute or so. She pushed him off and stood up.
We rushed to the river to wash and quietly waded down the river to our spot near the horses and wagon. Realizing too much time had passed I said sharply, “The wagon leaves in ten minutes.”
They laughed and yelled at me as I dressed. I ordered Rudi to the top of the wagon to hold the lines but Raina said that she would do it.
“Fine, get up there quickly,” I said, pulling my suspenders over my bare shoulders then tying my shirt around my waist.
The hitching and our trip back went smoothly. I could hardly believe what actually happened. When we rolled onto the lot, first call sounded and they jumped down without a word and ran toward the dressing tents. I felt eyes all over me, and I chose not to look. As I drove back to the horse tent, Avery ran up to the wagon.
“Seth,” he gasped, “Mr. Williams was just here looking for you.”
I remained seated and drifted back to those few moments I had with Raina. I knew it would probably never happen again, but I had to savor her smell and her touch. The elation I felt as we moved together in our secret lair will never go away. And, thankfully, I was no longer a virgin. What I couldn’t understand was my own lack of inhibition being with Rudi and Raina.
Williams walked up to the wagon. “Seth, drop 86, and bring the team over to the pole wagon behind the big top,” he said. “I want you to pull it around so the blacksmith can look at the rim on the right front wheel. It think it’s loose.”
I just sat there as Avery and another Negro walked the horses to find the pole wagon when Williams turned around. “Seth, get your butt moving,” he snapped, “and then meet me at the red wagon as soon you’re done.”
Travis, Indy, and the other two horses pushed, pulled, and strained as the harness stretched to get the pole wagon moving. Avery and I spotted the pole wagon near the blacksmith’s tent and walked toward the red wagon with Avery holding the lines. The flags on the top of the big tent flapped and the great tent breathed laboriously. It was a perfect afternoon for a circus. The performance began with the trumpets blaring the grand entry march. I had at least an hour to talk to Williams and get the horses fed and watered before the great von Leuvenfelds took to the air. I wanted to see Rudi and Raina’s act again.
My mind was on other things as I approached the red wagon. Several men I didn’t know stood at the bottom of the steps intently discussing something with Williams. I watched as the toe of Williams shoe smashed a cigarette on the second stair. He immediately beckoned me to the group putting his hand on my shoulder and introducing me to a lieutenant and a sergeant from the North Dakota State Police.
“Mr. Newman, do you know Mr. Michael Haskins?” asked the lieutenant.
“Yes,” I softly responded. “He and I drive a team together.”
“I’m sorry to tell you, Mr. Newman, but Mr. Haskins died last night in Lincoln. I understand Mr. Williams told you that Mr. Haskins had been in a fight. He was stabbed several times. He died from these wounds. I mean he bled to death. We suspect that he got into a fight with someone on the show after last night’s performance. Do you know who that might have been?”
I stood silently, starring at my boots and not knowing what to do.
“Well, Mr. Newman can you help us?”
I looked at Williams and then responded. “How do you know the person he fought is on the show?”
The officers did not answer my question, and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, anger building inside of me.
“You find a fellow named Ralph and ask him about Haskins,” I blurted. “I don’t know his last name, but he is one of the wagon assistants. I heard that he and Haskins had words in Lincoln.”
“Did you hear them arguing?” the sergeant asked.
“No, I heard about them having words this morning when Haskins wasn’t around when we started work this morning.” My stomach was knotted up, and I wanted to pound Ralph. I stood motionless tying to hide my anger.
“Who’d you hear it from?”
“Mr. Williams,” I replied looking at him, “Do you have any idea why they had words?”
“No, but based on my own experience with Ralph it is easy to rile him. He’s got a really quick temper. Sometimes the slightest thing--the wrong word or look--will set him off.”
I added, “One time, he got mad when I was driving a team he thought his boss, Shorty, should have been assigned to. Even though I was only a temporary driver he got enraged. We mixed it up. Some guys, including Haskins, pulled us apart. I heard he was furious when Haskins started working with me as my assistant.”
The sergeant turned to Williams. “Has this guy, Ralph, caused other problems?”
Williams seemed apprehensive about answering this simple question. “Some, but not much,” he said, starting up the stairs.
That was my cue to say nothing else, but the lieutenant asked me to describe Ralph.
“Ralph weighs about two hundred and twenty pounds, and I would guess is about six feet tall.” After writing down the description, the officers walked away. Williams stopped at the top of the stairs. The lieutenant and sergeant stood motionless.
Mr. Williams turned and said, “Seth, tell these men what you know?”
“Mr. Williams I really don’t know anything,” I responded defensively.
“Seth I don’t know for sure, but I have strong feeling that Ralph may come after you next.” “You think Ralph stabbed Haskins?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Ralph tried to scare Haskins and things went too far,” he replied quietly.
“Why don’t you fire him?” I shot back. My heart pounded, and my head felt like it was going to explode. I had to ask that question.
“No, I won’t do that,” he said as he went into the wagon, leaving me at the bottom of the stairs with the two men.
I turned to leave and I noticed the flag above the cookhouse. Should I watch Raina or eat? I walked toward the cookhouse. A breeze blew from the west and the sweet aroma of late summer drowned out the usual circus smells. I went into the cookhouse tent. Ralph and his friends occupied a table on the far side of the tent. I saw a waiter scowling as he walked toward me. I decided to sit with Ralph’s group even though that was not my custom. As I approached the table a few guys nodded.
“Hey, Newman, where’s your driver, Haskins?” blurted Ralph. I felt my face getting red, but I kept calm.
In my most cold, impersonal manner I responded, “Haskins is dead. Someone beat and stabbed him to death last night in Lincoln.”
“Who told you he’s dead?” Ralph asked.
I pointed to the two policemen walking our way. “They did.”
The officers stopped in front of the table, barely acknowledging me.
“Boys, one of your friends was killed last night, and we have some questions,” the lieutenant said. He asked each man for his name. I watched Ralph, who was pale by this time. He couldn’t sit still. I thought he might bolt, giving himself away. But he didn’t. The policemen got nothing from the men except that one guy said he had seen Haskins in the train loading area about ten-thirty last night. That was the last time anyone admitted to seeing Haskins. I watched to see if anyone other than Ralph was noticeably nervous.
Everyone seemed calm until a guy LaPorte, who worked with Topeka, turned white and dropped a fork onto his plate. He quickly retrieved it and stuffed food in his mouth, gagging for a moment. LaPorte remained seated until the police left, and then he shot out of the tent. Ralph watched La Porte’s departure but did move to follow him. The waiters reappeared and began to clean up our dishes. Hardly a bite had been touched. I held onto my plate while the other teamsters quickly disappeared.
As I walked out of the cookhouse, the sky changed and the wind whipped up the dust. Flags flapped angrily and the sideshow banners billowed. Men rushed around securing this and that, and performers hastily gathered their laundry. I saw Avery with the lines to Travis and Mavis when the first flash of lightning speared earthward. The horses surged forward. Avery saw the lightning and instinctively tightened his grip on the wheel team’s lines.
A clap of thunder sent the team running toward the field behind the performer’s dressing tents. The few people in the team’s path saw the team coming and got out of their way. Nothing but a stone wall was going to stop those horses. Avery struggled to keep his footing, but with the wheel horses’ lines still in his hands he stumbled and was dragged along the ground. He hung on, and the tension of his dead weight pulled the bits in the horses’ mouths. They slowed, but it was another fifty yards before I caught up. Just as thunder exploded twice, I grabbed the leader’s bits and prayed for silence so the horses would calm down. Giant drops of ice-cold water fell from the sky. A moment later, hail fell as Avery clung tightly to the lines. The icy marbles came in one quick, intense, painful downpour lasting ten to fifteen seconds. We turned the horses around and walked back toward the lot. The temperature plummeted, and I knew I would freeze before the night was over if I didn’t get into some dry clothes.
As we approached the lot, we saw people scurrying in all directions. The horse tent was ripped to shreds, and the wind whistled through it causing the torn roof sections to flap wildly. Grooms and teamsters wrestled with harness and lines while at the same time trying to calm the horses. Angry words flew in all directions.
Williams spotted us. “Seth,” he hollered from horseback, “get the team over to the cookhouse and help them sort out the wagons. The cookhouse tent completely collapsed.”
I saw complete chaos as we passed the main entrance. The Big Top was intact, even though there were a few visible holes. Spectators from the matinee wandered around looking at the destruction. The cookhouse was in shambles, but people stood in line to get what was left of a hot meal. In true circus tradition the crew served supper.
A guy in a white cap and dirty apron waved at us. “Fellows, can you drag my dishwasher wagon out from underneath the tent? I need it to stay ahead of the dishes.” He closed a door, moved dish racks aside, and was ready for a pull. With his help, we dragged the pole from underneath the wagon, hooked the chain ring to the pole gooseneck and slowly inched his dishwasher out. It was easy to pull even though the dishwasher’s wheels sunk into the soil.
Word filtered through the lot that the worst of the storm was over, and the night show was still scheduled.