Will hustled from his car, following his porter. Trouble in the Alvena. His entire body tingled.
He pushed by Mr. Ringling and raced toward the sleeping car. He didn’t care that he bumped into the berths where his roustabouts and the canvas men slept. All he cared about was keeping his job.
He refused to go down in history as the shortest-lived trainmaster.
And, if he had to be honest with himself, he cared about Ellen.
He heard women’s cries and shouts before he arrived. He entered and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. One voice rang above them.
“Let me go. I’m innocent.”
Ellen. Tears laced her words.
He pushed through the crowd, which fell silent. Mr. Ringling must have entered. Will worked his way to the inner circle of women.
Constance stood behind Ellen, pinning her arms behind her back. Tears streamed down Ellen’s cheeks.
Constance narrowed her eyes. “She tried to suffocate me.”
The train lurched. Will stumbled, then regained his balance. “She what?”
“You’re lying.”
“I caught her standing over me.”
“She grabbed me as I walked past.” Ellen sucked in her breath as Constance tightened her grip.
“They should have locked you up in Geneseo. Will might have saved you then. Not this time. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Mr. Ringling stepped into the center of the action, legs akimbo, arms crossed.
Will cleared his throat and forced his voice to remain steady. “Let go of her.”
“What?” Constance dragged Ellen in Will’s direction. “You want me to free a murderer?”
“You’re alive.”
“Only because I’m stronger. If I wasn’t, I’d be dead.”
“I said let her go. She won’t get away. Not with this mob.”
Constance released her grip. Ellen rubbed her wrists. She swiped away a few tears. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t exonerate you. Far from it. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. No one goes to sleep until I hear the story. And the truth.”
“She—”
Will signaled for Constance to be quiet. “I know your version. I want to hear Miss Meyer’s.”
“I got up to…”
“To what? Tell the truth. All of it.”
Red flooded her face, rivaling the scarlet of the ringmaster’s coat. “To use the chamber pot.” She studied her bare feet.
He wanted to fold her into his embrace. To make this all go away. Why did he want to do that when he believed she’d perpetrated the earlier crimes? What brought out this protective streak? “Go on.”
“I was walking back when Constance grabbed me and screamed. That’s all. It’s my word against hers.”
Will sighed. They had no proof either way.
“Who else would it have been? She’s the one I fought off and grabbed. I can’t be mistaken.” Constance crowed like a proud rooster.
Mr. Ringling rubbed his lower back. “The evidence isn’t in your favor, Miss Meyer.”
Ellen’s voice regained a measure of strength. “It’s not in hers, either. There’s no proof I did this. She’s making it up. Look. She doesn’t have a single mark on her.”
Will examined Constance. Her hair hung down her back in a neat braid. If she’d struggled with Ellen, it would be mussed. Instead, not a hair was out of place.
He studied Ellen, her arms bare midway up. Constance said she fought her attacker. Yet Ellen’s arms showed no fresh bruises or scratches. Her hair hung in wild curls.
What should he do? He had to please Mr. Ringling. But the helpless, frightened look in Ellen’s wide green eyes ate at him.
He drew in a deep breath, prepared to answer.
Ellen couldn’t control the shaking that racked her.
Murder.
Constance accused her of attempted murder.
Falsely.
Would anyone believe her?
She wanted to crumple to the ground in a puddle of tears. She’d failed her family. Failed Mama. The woman who gave her everything.
Mama would die. Her younger brothers and sisters would grow up without her love.
Mr. Ringling’s voice penetrated her fear-laced haze. “Never have I encountered such trouble. It’s not becoming to a family like ours. If the public learns about these problems, our sales will be affected, our reputation sullied. I refuse to have that. Ringling Brothers is a family-friendly show, and I aim to keep it that way.”
Ellen went numb. Did Marie Antoinette feel this way as the henchmen led her to the guillotine?
“Miss Meyer, we will let you off at the next station. As soon as we arrive, you are to disembark and leave the circus. Since there is no evidence against you, I won’t involve the authorities. But these disruptions happened after I employed you. I have to maintain peace and order in my show.”
Constance stood on her tiptoes and almost jumped up and down, like an eager schoolchild ready to give the answer. “Who will replace her?”
“You’re the longest serving wardrobe staff member?”
“That’s correct.” Constance out-beamed the gas lights.
“Then you’re the new wardrobe mistress. I trust there will be no further incidents once Miss Meyer is gone.”
“There won’t be. I’ll do my utmost to make my department a model of efficiency.”
If Ellen’s mouth hadn’t gone dry, she might have laughed. Or shouted at Mr. Ringling and everyone else. How could they believe Constance over her?
Will was right. The circus was a family. One she didn’t belong to. She wasn’t part of them. Never would be. Maybe Miss Anna would give her back her old dress shop job. The low pay wouldn’t be enough to send Mama to the sanatorium, but it would help the rest of her family.
“Do you understand, Miss Meyer?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The crowd dissipated. She returned to her berth and lay beside Lucy.
“I’m so sorry, Ellen. For what it’s worth, I don’t believe Constance. She’s vengeful and spiteful. She wanted your job. It looks like she did whatever it took to get it.”
“Thanks.” She swallowed a sob.
The train’s wheels clacked out the miles until arriving in Independence, Iowa. Since she’d lain awake for hours, Ellen decided not to waste time. She dressed and packed her belongings. The job didn’t take long.
The other women filed off the train, heading for the dining tent. Lucy lagged behind, enveloping Ellen in a long hug.
Ellen’s throat stung. “I’ll miss you. Thank you for believing in me. You’re the only one.”
“There are more, I’m sure. What about Will? He stared at you last night.”
“Only pity. Everyone stared at me.”
“Don’t say that. I know you’re worried about your mother.”
“I can’t talk about her. She’s going to die because I failed.”
Lucy pressed a piece of paper into Ellen’s hand. “Here. I read this last night. It’s been on my mind. The words might comfort you.”
Ellen unfolded the lilac page.
Trust in the LORD, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday.
Psalm 37:3–6
Trust in the Lord. Over the years, she had heard that admonition a thousand times. But how difficult to trust when your mother’s life lay in your hands. When your family relied on you to make enough money to get her the treatment she needed to live.
“He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.”
She wanted to believe. Right now, the desires of her heart lay in tatters at her feet. “Thank you, Lucy. I’ll miss you most of all.” Ellen picked up her valise. Once they unloaded, she’d have one of the roustabouts bring her trunk inside the station.
The Alvena’s porter, Mr. Hickley, knocked and entered when she answered. “I’m sorry to see you go, miss. Constance don’t hold a candle to you. Anyways, the station master gave me this telegram for you.”
Ellen tried to take the message from Mr. Hickley, but she couldn’t hold it in her trembling hands. “Read it to me, Lucy.”
She feared the news to be the worst kind about Mama.