Bringing Ezra Back (10 page)

The crowd cheered and moved aside to let Little Miss Mary step in front of me. She gave me a fierce look and said, “The show's over for you, mister.” To Pea-Head and Calvin, she said, “Take his arms and follow me. Make way, folks, and go back to your fun. Make way, coming through.”

Miss Mary led us through the throng of curious people, with Pea-Head Pete and Calvin Edson dragging me along behind her. Folks made room for us, pointing and laughing at the spectacle we made.

I heard Trask boom, “I always say, when you've got a big job needs doing, give it to a midget, ladies and gentlemen. Let's hear it for Little Miss Mary and her cohorts!”

The crowd's roar echoed in my ears as we approached the entrance to the show. Miss Mary spoke loud, so her small voice carried. “Get out, dirty troublesome boy, and take your crazy notions with you. The Injun doesn't know you, that's plain.” She shook her finger at me and added, “And don't come back. We've all had a good eyeful of you, and if Mr. Trask sees you again, he's likely to shoot first and ask questions later, understand?”

When I didn't answer, she asked again, louder. “Understand?”

I nodded dully.

“Good,” she said. “Now
git.
” With a grand sweep of her hand, she flung open the canvas flap. “Turn him loose, boys,” she commanded. Pea-Head and Calvin let go of my arms, and I stumbled forward into the sudden darkness beyond the half circle of wagons.

Once I was outside, I was surprised to feel her small hand gripping mine hard. “Listen,” she whispered. “We don't have much time. I'll help you get your friend, but you must do exactly as I say.”

I stared at her without speaking, my mind all a jumble, and she went on impatiently. “Come back three hours before first light. Sneak in under the middle wagon and tap on the bottom. I'll hear you.” Then she gave me a push and called loudly, “And
stay away,
if you know what's good for you!”

She disappeared inside the canvas, and I was alone. My feet began to move, though my brain was too muddled to tell them where to go.

“Well,
he
won't be back!” I heard Little Miss Mary announce to the crowd. Their cheers swelled, then rose and fell at my back as I made my way in a daze through the unfamiliar countryside. Slowly my eyes grew accustomed to the night, and I was thankful for the three-quarter moon that had risen.

Somehow I found the overturned cart where I'd left my pack and I crawled under it. I don't know how long I sat curled up there, shaking and sobbing and trying to make sense of what I'd seen and heard. I had imagined finding Ezra over and over in my daydreams, but never had I thought it would happen like this.

There was nobody I could ask, nobody to tell me where Ezra had gone and who the ghost was that had taken his place.

I remembered something Pa had told me when we buried Mama. I'd been crying then, too, and Pa said that even though Mama's body was in the ground, the important part of her, the part that made her Mama, was in heaven.

It seemed the part of Ezra that made him Ezra was gone, too, even though his body wasn't dead and buried. It scared me to think about it.

My poison ivy was gone by then but, still, it looked like that old saying about itchy feet was right. My right foot had sure started me on a long journey. And my left foot had led me to where I wasn't wanted, not even by Ezra.

Some long time later, I made myself sit up straight. Little Miss Mary's words ran through my head over and over.
I'll help you,
she had said. I almost wondered if I'd dreamed it. Why in the world should I believe her, after she threw me out? Why would she help me? She didn't even know me.

It had to be a trick. But for what purpose? So the Trasks could take me prisoner and put me in their show as the World's Stupidest Boy? That's surely what I'd have to be to go back there, risking Trask and his rifle again.

But I had to go back. I couldn't leave Ezra behind after coming so far to find him.

The longer I thought about it, the more I began to believe that Little Miss Mary had been putting on a show of her own to fool the Trasks. For a brief moment outside the light from the wagons, I'd been able to see her eyes. They'd looked right into mine, and again I'd seen the anger in them. I knew somehow it wasn't for me. She was no friend to Trask and that crowd.

I trusted Miss Mary's anger. And I had to trust my own self to be right about what I'd seen.

13

WHEN I COULDN'T STAND
waiting anymore, I dragged myself from my hiding place. It took a while to work the pins and needles from my legs and the cramps from my back. The moon had shifted over toward the east, so I figured it was close enough to the hour Miss Mary had told me to return.

With the lanterns unlit and the fire died down, the wagon camp was dark except for the moonlight. That suited me fine. I stood on the outskirts for what seemed the longest time, listening and watching. There were no signs of life other than the hoot of an owl, which always made me feel mournful, and the sounds of small creatures going about their nighttime business. I was grateful for the never-ending murmur and splash of the river, which would help to cover any little noises I made.

There was no reason to wait any longer. If Little Miss Mary had double-crossed me and told the Trasks I was coming, my goose was cooked good. I figured I might as well find out sooner rather than later.

I crept toward the middle wagon. When I sneaked up earlier, my heart had felt ready to burst, but now it thumped steady and calm in my chest. It was strange, I reckoned. But I'd cast my lot with Miss Mary, and now I had to see where it would lead me.

I froze mid-step when I heard a sudden snort from the wagon I knew to be the Trasks'. It was followed by a sigh and the shifting of bodies and rustle of bedding, then by the sound of deep, even snoring. I inched forward again until I was under the middle-wagon bed. After pausing to listen once more, I tapped as lightly as I could on the boards.

So faint I wasn't sure at first it was real, a light tap came back. Then there was the sound of movement, followed by two short legs dangling before my eyes. Little Miss Mary landed on the ground light as a bird and bent down so we were nearly eye to eye.

“Well, dirty boy, here you are,” she whispered. She sounded triumphant. “Calvin bet me two bits you wouldn't show. Now he'll have to pay up.”

“What about the Trasks?” I whispered back nervously.

She gave a low snort of her own. “I don't reckon anything short of an Indian raid is going to wake those two till well after sunrise. I poured my own good whiskey down their ungrateful throats, making like we were celebrating getting rid of you and keeping the savage in the show.” Her eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Well, aren't you going to thank me?”

I was taken aback some by her manner. “Th-thank you,” I said.

“Not everyone was in favor of helping you,” she whispered. “Amelia is scared to death of Trask, and who can blame her? If he finds out we were in on this, it'll go badly for us. I promised the others I'd handle him, but we've got to tread careful.”

She put her fingers to her lips and beckoned to me to come out from under the wagon. I followed her to the next wagon, away from where the Trasks lay sleeping. When I looked up, I saw Calvin Edson's and Pea-Head Pete's anxious faces peering out.

“This here's the men's wagon,” Little Miss Mary explained. “What you were under is the women's.”

I glanced back and saw that Bearded Betty and the Amazing Amelia were awake, too, and watching us closely. I could see the fear on Amelia's face.

“Ezra's in there?” I asked, gazing at the men's wagon. It was all I could do not to sweep aside the canvas so I could see him.

Little Miss Mary didn't answer right away. In the silence I felt the eyes of all the show people on me. It made me feel prickly, and I wondered uneasily if they might be planning a trick, after all.

“First, hear me out,” she said. “After, you may change your mind.”

“I won't—” I began, but she shushed me.

“You listen now. I got to know: what do you aim to do with the savage once you have him?”

“His name is Ezra,” I said.

Her shrewd expression seemed to grow softer for a moment. “Ezra, then,” she said.

“I aim to take him back home with me to our farm.”

“And then what?” she asked.

“Well, I don't rightly know,” I said uncertainly. “He can do whatever he likes, I reckon, but me and Molly and Pa'd be glad to have him as long as he wants to stay.”

She took that in, then asked, “You say you knew him before. Could he speak?”

I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Can't I just see him?” I asked.

“In a minute,” she said.

I sighed and said, “He couldn't talk then, either. It's a—a long story, how he lost his tongue.”

“There's no time for that now,” Miss Mary said. “But tell me this, did he have some life about him back then?”

I nodded. “He didn't talk, but he didn't have to. We had a way of getting on together.”

“So, besides not talking, he was like other folks?” Miss Mary asked.

It was a difficult question, and it took me a while to sort out the answer. Meantime, I could still feel the eyes of all the other show people, as they leaned forward to hear every word. I wondered if Ezra, inside the men's wagon, was listening, too.

“No, I reckon he was always different, even back then.” I blurted out the questions that were tormenting me. “What
happened
to him? Why didn't he even look at me when I called his name?”

I stopped, feeling near to tears.

A loud groan came from the Trasks' wagon, followed by mumbling. I nearly bolted at that, but Miss Mary held my arm and said, “That's just the whiskey talking.”

She sighed then. “As to your question,” she said quietly, “I don't know. We were out in western Ohio someplace, I remember. Trask went to town and came back with this white feller dressed in tatters and animal skins, wearing his hair long like an Indian.” She made a face and added, “Hiram's got a nose for sniffing out misfits and misfortunates.”

After another sigh, she went on. “You heard him for yourself: Trask's a cunning liar. I don't know what he said to get your friend to follow him, but I don't suppose it took much. Ezra was mighty dispirited, even then. That very night, Hiram and Lovey put him up on the stage and told their hokum story, made him open his mouth and show the crowd that gaping hole.” She paused. “And ever since, I've watched him die a little more every day.”

Gesturing with her small hand to the men's and women's wagons, she said, “You see, Calvin, Pea-Head, Betty, Amelia, and me, we belong here. We chose to be here—well, all except for Amelia. Her parents sold her to the Trasks when she was just six years old.”

I shook my head in wonder at such a thing.

“Here we have a roof over our heads, and food, such as it is,” Miss Mary said. “I know that doesn't sound like much, and maybe it isn't. But we also have each other's company. Out in the world, people stare and say cruel things. Of course, they do that at the show. But they have to pay for the pleasure and, to us, that makes all the difference.”

Her keen eyes peered at me in the darkness to see if I was following. I nodded to show I got her meaning well enough. I did, too. But I was so impatient to get to Ezra, it was hard to stand and listen.

“Your friend, he doesn't belong here,” Miss Mary said. “Trask knows that. I figure that's why he keeps him apart.”

“Apart?” I repeated warily. “How do you mean?”

Little Miss Mary hesitated, then took my hand before saying, “The rest of us, we're not allowed to talk to him. Trask keeps him alone, in that—that
cage.
” She pointed with her other hand.

“Cage!”
I gasped. I broke free of her grasp and ran past the end of the men's wagon to where a boxlike shape stood half-hidden in the brushy undergrowth near the riverbank. It wasn't much more than some boards nailed to a frame, with some hinges to allow for a door, and a canvas thrown over the top. I'd seen chicken coops and corncribs built better. It filled me with horror to think that this was where Trask kept Ezra. But I was confused, too. There wasn't any lock on the door, so what was keeping Ezra there?

“Ezra?” I whispered finally. There was no answer.

Miss Mary appeared at my side again. Quietly she said, “Trask used to lock him in. He stopped when he saw that your friend didn't even try to get away.”

With a feeling of dread, I pulled the door open. I did it slowly, not knowing if the hinges might need oiling, and was grateful when they didn't make a sound. At first it was hard to make out anything in that dark, cramped space. But then the moonlight shone in on a figure lying slumped against the wall. I stepped in, bent down, and took Ezra by the shoulders.

“Come on, Ezra,” I whispered urgently. “We're getting out of here.”

His eyes opened, but there was no sign that he recognized me or even cared who I was. He closed his eyes, and his head rolled onto his chest. Altogether he put me in mind of a doll Molly had when she was a baby, made out of raggedy old clothes. I shook Ezra gently, and heard the clanking sound of metal.

The shackles! He was still wearing them. I turned to Miss Mary in despair.

“Trask clamped those things on that first day. Calvin and me, we talked about trying to get 'em off tonight, but we couldn't take the risk.”

I put my head in my hands. It was all too much.

“Those shackles, there's not a lot to 'em, really,” Miss Mary said. “They're mostly for show, to convince the crowd how dangerous the savage is.” She snorted with contempt at the idea. “Calvin and me, we think you might get 'em off pretty easy. You got any tools?”