Chapter Ten

PIPPA

She watched him from her vantage point on the front porch of the costume house. It was as close to the circus as Pippa could get without completely disregarding her father’s instructions. Considering Forrest had allowed her to come along with him, she needed to show respect to her intended as well, even though every ounce of her spirit rebelled against the constraints.

Forrest had parked his Ford in front of the two-story white house where the circus costumes were mended, sewn, and created over the fall and winter months. Assuming a visit to the place filled with bolts of vibrantly colored materials, bins of sequins and faux jewels, and the whirring of sewing machines would somehow satiate Pippa’s restless nature that had attached itself to the circus, Forrest had left her here. She was diminished to an accessory with predetermined dispositions not entirely her own. Although, Pippa did admit to appreciating the bright colors. They tugged at her spirit, at a place inside her no one could touch. Wild but imprisoned.

Pippa watched Forrest as he strode down the hard-packed dirt street toward the elephant house. The bright yellow octagonal building shone brilliant in today’s sunlight. Brilliant and ominous both.

“Your fella is a sheik, if ever I saw one.”

The silky voice drifted over Pippa’s shoulder, and she spun, immediately sensing warmth in her cheeks. A woman, not much older than she, had come up the porch steps. In contrast to Pippa’s deep-green cloche hat pulled down over a delicately rolled bun at the nape of her neck, this woman’s hair was bobbed to her chin in the reckless, insubordinate way of women who were shunning a conservative upbringing. Her dress hung straight and shapeless, with a deep V that plunged down her flat chest. She probably bound her chest tightly, as so many of the fashionable set were wont to do.

“Anyone in there?” The woman waved her ungloved hand in front of Pippa’s face.

Pippa blinked. “Oh. Forrest?”

“That his first name, huh?” Pippa’s companion lifted a cigarette to her lips and took a long drag, staring past Pippa to Forrest. A smile tipped the corner of her mouth. “Like I said. A sheik. He’s handsome, ya follow?”

Pippa glanced back at the tailored form of Forrest. She supposed he was handsome. Maybe she was simply too used to him. But in comparison to Jake Chapman, he was . . . Pippa halted her wayward and unexpected thought. She’d never really considered Jake Chapman before—at least not consciously.

“I’m Patty.” The stranger’s blue eyes sparkled.

She seemed nice. Lovely, actually. Pippa smiled.

A train whistle sounded in the distance, announcing the arrival of a locomotive at the depot blocks away. Patty shot a look westward, where the brick building tucked into the side of the bluff.

“Train’s early,” Patty observed. “Ever want to jump on and just get away from this place?”

Another long drag and then a spiral of smoke blown gently between red puckered lips.

Pippa bit hers. She nodded. It probably wasn’t wise to admit that, especially to a stranger and a circus gypsy at that.

Patty dropped the cigarette to the porch and ground it with the heel of her pump. “Me too. Of course, I ride it all spring and summer, so you’d think I’d be tired of it. But I’m not.” A faraway look washed over her eyes. “Funny how no one’s ever happy where they’re meant to be.”

“Meant to be?” Pippa raised a brow and fingered her lace collar tucked so modestly against her neck.

Patty offered up a tinkling laugh. “Aw, honey. We were all meant to be. My momma taught me that when I was a wee thing. But, I ain’t never met a soul who liked where they landed. ‘Providence,’ Momma always said. Providence places you there. Who’m I to argue with Providence?” Patty shrugged. “Still, that don’t mean I gotta like it.”

“You don’t like being part of the circus?” Pippa could almost taste her surprise. Surprise that Patty was discontent with the very place that drew Pippa like a magnet to metal.

Patty smiled again and tipped her head in the direction Forrest had gone. “When men like him show up, I don’t mind. But a girl can get tired of the circus, same as she can get tired of—makin’ a livin’.” A knowing eye swept Pippa from head to foot.

A blush crept up Pippa’s neck, warming her skin. “Do you ride the horses?” Pippa diverted, not completely sure as to what Patty had alluded to. She imagined Patty standing on the back of a white Lipizzan, wearing a tiny shining outfit, feathers arranged in a fan attached to the back of a headband that embraced her short dark hair.

“Me?” Patty’s voice rose a bit. “No, honey. I just sew things, and I . . . I sew.”

Pippa had been sure she was a performer. Sure that the glamour radiating from the beautiful face was honed by a profession of being in the circle. The lights, the booming voice of the ringmaster, the trumpet of an elephant and roar of a lion.

“Do you enjoy it?”

Patty gave Pippa a searching look, then a little smile. “You’re cute.” She tilted her head toward the door of the sewing house and rolled her baby blues. “I sew till my fingers drop off. It’s a job. Better than a lot of girls have, I guess. At least I’m independent and fancy-free. In my spare time, I like to have a little fun.” She winked playfully and tugged open the screen door. A saucy smile was tossed Pippa’s way. “Guess I was meant to be a costume artist. Who knew God had one of me up His sleeve!”

The door closed on Patty’s laughter, and Pippa stared after her, a bit in awe and a bit in shame. Awed by Patty’s flamboyant challenge for her life, and shamed that she suddenly wished she were like Patty. That she had the gumption to wear short hair, to bind her chest, to fling a strand of pearls around her neck and smoke a cigarette.

Pippa shrank against the porch rail, forcing her attention back to the elephant barn. She would wait for Forrest. The trumpet of an elephant echoed the whistle of the train as it approached the depot, announcing its arrival and soon-to-be departure. Pippa longed to open her mouth and cry out along with it. But she didn’t. Ripleys didn’t cry. They didn’t argue or make a fuss. They just did . . . as they were told.

Forrest was not pleased, and the glower that settled between his dark eyes only emphasized the fact. That, and the pace he was setting as he led Pippa down the street toward the elephant barn. He’d returned to retrieve her with the exasperated instruction that they needed to see if the elephant calf would respond to her as it had a few nights ago. The calf wasn’t eating, and the mother wouldn’t respond to it.

“We’re going to lose thousands!” Forrest muttered under his breath. The pinstripes on his trousers blurred together as he took fast steps. “This is asinine that I have to bring you to fix the problem.”

An insult? Perhaps. But she preferred to believe it was frustration directed at Ernie’s inability to get the calf to eat. Pippa hurried beside Forrest, her feet twisting on the little stones in the dirt road, making the pace even more challenging with her leg. She ignored catcalls from some of the circus hands they passed—apparently they didn’t mind the hitch in her gait. She caught glimpses of the river in the alleyways between the buildings, and across it, circus supplies being off-loaded from a flatbed on the train, which had now pulled through on the tracks that ran perpendicular to the river.

“Forrest, please slow down,” Pippa managed to say between puffs. While their pace was hurried, it was more the effort not to trip that made Pippa expend energy.

The autumn air was crisp, and the scent of the colorful leaves of the maples and oaks mixed with the tangy smell of animals wafting from the barns. The horse barn consisted of two levels, and Pippa caught a glimpse of a horse being led from its stall by a man in blue trousers. It was a draft horse, large and bred for work. They were probably taking the horse to help with the train’s cargo.

“Come on, Pippa,” Forrest urged, this time taking her lightly by her upper arm and steering her around a clump of mud that had fallen off a wagon. “Ernie has requested I allow you to see the calf. If she responds to you as she apparently did a few nights ago . . .” His voice dwindled as he cast a sidelong glance at her.

She couldn’t deny the thrill in her stomach as she increased her pace. She was needed, and that invisible bond she sensed between herself and the calf reawakened.

A shadow stretched across their path. Pippa lifted her eyes, meeting the turbulent storm in Jake Chapman’s. He glared at her, his mouth stretched in a thin line, his coarse beard short and rough-looking. Next to Forrest, Jake looked almost like a vagabond, albeit a tad cleaner. His hair was raked back from his forehead, and she couldn’t tell if he’d attempted to use pomade to keep the long light-brown strands in place or if it was just shy of a few days from being washed. Pippa couldn’t find her tongue to offer any sort of courteous greeting. He really was quite intimidating. A cigar hung from the corner of his mouth and emphasized the tough squint of his eyes. Disgusting habit. And the stench. He really should put it out. Actually, he shouldn’t. It was attractive, in a brutish sort of way.

“Chapman.” Forrest jerked his head toward Pippa. “I’ve brought her, but I expect congeniality and propriety.”

“Go home.” The cigar waved in Jake’s mouth haphazardly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I should be here,” Forrest said, his voice edged with steel. “It’s in the financial best interests of the circus to have this animal on her feet as soon as possible. A circus isn’t a circus without an elephant.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “You have elephants. A lot of them—”

“Not a calf,” Forrest shot back.

Jake pivoted from Forrest, and his eyes roved Pippa’s face lazily. The fact that his attention caused her nerves to flutter was insignificant. What mattered right now was Lily—that she was cared for. Loved and nurtured.

“That’s foolhardy.” Jake tossed his cigar down and ground it into the dirt. It left a black scar in the dust. The smoke wafted up and dissipated. Snuffed out. Like he seemed to want to snuff out their presence. Jake spun on his heel and entered the elephant barn.

Forrest was fast behind him, Pippa following unbidden yet knowing it was expected.

“Apologize to my fiancée,” Forrest insisted.

Pippa winced. Forrest sounded downright petty.

Jake smiled wryly. “Nothing but the best for Her Highness.” While there was a roughness in his tone, when he looked at her, Pippa thought she saw a glimmer of apology. That maybe his sarcasm was directed at Forrest and not her, and maybe there was kindness, even understanding beneath the rugged exterior. The tension between the two men was so thick it hung in the air stronger than the tangy-sweet scent of elephant dung.

The straw smelled fresh, however, and toyed with Pippa’s nose, sending particles through the shaft of sunlight that highlighted the calf’s slumber. “Is she . . . ?”

“She’s alive,” Jake said.

Pippa knelt in the hay beside the calf. The newborn wasn’t very responsive. The tip of her trunk lifted a few inches off the hay and then rested back in its place. She heard Forrest sigh behind her. The kind of sigh that insinuated the direness of the situation. Pippa looked up at Jake and was surprised that he was watching her and not the elephant. There was mutual concern in his expression.

“Is she going to live?” Pippa tried again.

Jake squatted next to her. “Lily needs a lot of care.”

Pippa was very aware of the breadth of his muscular frame. He was tense, taut, like a spring waiting to jump. Barely restrained, and dangerous if given free rein.

“What do you need me to do?” Pippa returned her attention to the four-hundred-plus-pound animal whose sad eyes blinked with lashes that curled like feathers over tough leathery skin. “Sweet one.” Pippa leaned over the elephant and kissed Lily’s temple, running her hand down the elephant’s face onto the base of her trunk. “Shhh . . .” she crooned as if the calf were her own infant.

“Try to feed her.” Forrest’s direction broke through the intimate moment.

Silently, Jake handed Pippa a bottle, its nipple tugged over the glass neck, milk sloshing inside. His hand encompassed the large feeding instrument.

Pippa bit the inside of her lip as she tugged off her gloves. “I-I’m not sure what to do.”

“We’ve tried just about every way we know how,” Jake admitted. “Just see if Lily will respond to you, like she did the other night.”

She eyed his fingers wrapped around the bottle. The hand was corded, the knuckles callused.

“Take it,” he said, only this time his voice was soft. It seemed he comprehended Pippa’s reticence. If she failed . . . if Lily didn’t respond to her . . .

Pippa looked up at Forrest, who towered over them, refusing to crouch down in the straw with them. Yes. It was all over Forrest’s face. If Lily didn’t respond to her, she was Bonaventure’s last hope. The calf would most likely die, along with all the profits plus a great loss in advertising of the upcoming spring train.

Even now, Pippa was a chess piece. Moved wherever the men in her life wanted her on their board. Still, she did as she was told—

“And here we have it!” The stringent voice jolted Pippa. Forrest spun around, and Jake pulled the bottle back. Pippa scrambled to her feet.

“Georgiana!” And now the afternoon was for sure and certain to get worse.

Georgiana Farnsworth stood in the doorway of the pen, a raised eyebrow of auburn clashing with the blaze red of her dress. She was tall, curvy but trim, with enormous brown eyes that diminished her otherwise striking beauty. A broad yellow sash ran across her chest like a suffragette. Only, she wasn’t a suffragette. She peered past them at Lily. Pippa caught a flicker of sadness in Georgiana’s expression before her face set in its usual irate glare.

“I’ve said it before, and again now”—she waved her hand at the calf whose wounds from its mother’s attack were visible—“here’s the evidence.”

“Who are you?” Jake rose to his feet and used his presence to invade the woman’s space.

Georgiana was not intimidated. “Miss Georgiana Farnsworth.” She jabbed her hand out as if to shake hands like a man.

Jake ignored it.

Georgiana dropped her hand. She adjusted her sash as her eyes darted between Jake and Pippa. Then, turning to Forrest, she continued, “Well, Mr. Landstrom, it’s obvious that my suspicions about this circus have been correct. The maltreatment and abuse of your animals, and now the outright disregard for the birth of this elephant? It’s disgraceful. An abomination.”

Forrest stiffened and straightened his necktie. His brows drew together in such a blatant look of disgust that Pippa was fearful he’d fly into a terrible outburst just as her father was prone to do. Instead, when he spoke, his voice was monotone. Politic yet vaguely patronizing.

“Miss Farnsworth, your methods of fact-finding leave much to be desired. That you’ve been influenced by the European newspapers shows little for your personal fortitude.”

“My fortitude?” Georgiana drew back, her lips pinching together in an expression of distaste equal to Forrest’s. “I am not easily influenced. If you read the papers, you’ll note that many of the European circus animals are treated abominably. That we have our own pretentious form of entertainment here in Bluff River’s own home grounds is shameful.”

Jake glowered from the corner of the stall, the bottle gripped so tight in his fist that Pippa wondered if he might actually break it beneath the pressure. Forrest ignored them both, his attention focused solely on the misled activist who only last year had made it her mission to picket and form gatherings against the not-so-secretive basement speakeasy at the Bluff River Inn. That was a better mission, Pippa decided, than this one.

Forrest chose his words carefully. “Bonaventure Circus tends to the welfare of our animals. Our trainers are responsible.”

Pippa saw the muscle in Forrest’s jaw twitch.

Miss Farnsworth skewered him with a respectful but determined stare. “Then how would you explain the condition of this poor baby elephant?” She tugged at her glove as if remembering Jake’s refusal to shake her hand. Georgiana craned her neck to see around them. Her eyes took in Lily’s immobile body. They softened at the corners. She was genuinely concerned for the animal’s welfare, Pippa could acknowledge that, yet she was severely unfounded in her accusations.

“This is downright grievous.” The woman’s chin lifted, her eyes ablaze. “Pippa Ripley, you must beseech your father to have this madness stopped at once.”

“There’s been a horrible accident, that’s all,” Jake inserted with a growl.

“An accident? This town has waited eons for this baby to be born. Twenty months, I believe. It should be a gift to all of us. But I knew this would happen. I did. This circus mars the grandeur. Its beauty, its magnificence beaten down by the entrapment of performance and caged disciplines.”

“The baby was brutalized by its mother,” Forrest attempted to explain.

Miss Farnsworth huffed. She crossed her arms. “That helps not your case, Mr. Landstrom. It only speaks of further negligence, and it’s most abhorrent.”

“Big words for someone with little knowledge,” Jake muttered, his squinty eyes never wavering from the protestor’s pretty face.

Georgiana tilted her head to the right. The black hat with the purple netting she wore slipped a tad, held in place by a crystal-topped hatpin. “Never accuse me of being an idiot, Mr. Chapman.”

She knew his name. For some reason, it both surprised and bothered Pippa. Surprise that Georgiana would know someone so far below her station, and bothersome because . . . Pippa looked down at her feet. There was a definite connection between her and Jake Chapman. Tenuous and vague, perhaps, but there nonetheless. It was Lily. A mutual cause. A mutual reason to fight for what was right and good.

“I will bring justice to this place. To this suffering creature.” Georgiana righted her hat and pushed the pin in farther. Her skirt flipped around her calves as she spun toward the door. She tugged on her sash, its brandy color bragging her cause.

“There is no justice to be sought.” Forrest’s firm protest rolled off the female rabble-rouser’s shoulders.

The woman paused as if to reconsider her grand exit and looked over her shoulder. “I have it on good authority that the reason this happened in the first place is because your employees were imbibing in illegal substances at the Bluff River Inn.”

“You’ve no proof of that.” Forrest wasn’t defending Jake, of that Pippa was certain. But, it would bode no good if Georgiana Farnsworth linked the circus’s personnel to the rum-running resources of the inn.

Georgiana followed Forrest’s declaration with a delicate snort. “No one will believe for a moment that a mother would do this to her babe. Once my case is made, the entire town—no, the entire state and Midwest—will stand against Bonaventure Circus, as well they should.”

A gloved hand pointed at Pippa. “And you, Pippa Ripley?” Georgiana’s words sliced through Pippa with the numbing smoothness of a sharp knife. “You’re one of them. You always have been. One of these days your father will pull the blinders from his eyes and stop trying to protect his little empire with all its secrets. He’ll be honest and will do what’s right.”

“Enough.” Forrest’s command silenced the protesting woman. But it didn’t feel as though he did it in her defense. Pippa scanned his face for something—anything—that made her feel warm and assured by his protection. But she saw nothing there.

“Get out.” Jake took a menacing step toward Georgiana, who only tilted her nose up at him.

“Gladly. This place reeks of indiscretions.”

Indiscretions? Pippa realized she’d edged closer to the elephant calf during the heated exchange, until the backs of her heels brushed up against the bruised animal’s leathery skin. Lily’s trunk lifted and wrapped around her calf. Indiscretion, abuse, neglect—words that mimicked the many layers of the circus. The hidden layers. The parts no one wanted to acknowledge. The abandonment, the mockery, the misfits. Strange how someone like Georgiana wished to protect them from this place, while in so many ways it was here that they sought sanctuary. Those who were put on display, whether for entertainment or for a father’s purpose.

Pippa’s eyes met Jake’s as Georgiana breezed into the corridor, Forrest not far behind, intent on making sure she took her leave. His eyes squinted in some sort of consideration as he ran a hand over his beard, his sigh one of barely restrained tension.

He cursed, and it echoed the desperation in Pippa’s soul. A soul that wanted to find fairness for them all, in a world where fairness was simply a fairy tale that would never reach a happy ending.